


How I Met My Husband

by DarkPhoenixGoddess10



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPhoenixGoddess10/pseuds/DarkPhoenixGoddess10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Modern World - narrated by Anne Neville, this is how she met her husband. All the adventures, choices, tears, obstacles, laughter. Sometimes the word "soulmate" does have a meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How it all began

**Author's Note:**

> The setting will be modern time, New York. All characters are Americanized. Some names are modified:
> 
> Jacquetta, Lady of Rivers = Jackie Rivers  
> Elizabeth Woodville Grey = Liz Woodville  
> Edouard of Lancaster = Edward Lancaster, Earl of Westminster (he will be half-British)  
> Margaret of Anjour = Margurite d'Anjou-Lancaster (she's American married to British nobility)  
> Ceciliy Neville = CiCi Neville-York

They say curiosity kills the cat. I never believed that because I, Anne Neville, am a realist and I don’t believe all those old saying or the prophecies. But sometimes, those old sayings exist for a reason.And let me tell you how my curiosity turned my life completely upside down and made me the person who I am today: a missus. This is the story of how I met my husband.

It all started on my thirteenth birthday. I was a teenager, entering my new rebellious phase of life. Everything was on my nerve; suddenly I hated my house, I hated when mother tells me what to do; I hated it when Izzy bosses me around. Only my dad was okay. And on my thirteenth birthday, instead of celebrating, I was spending the day helping Izzy preparing her upcoming Prom Queen coronation. 

It was unbearable; Mother and Izzy swapped stories on boyfriends and prom. Although Mother was approaching her 50s, she could behave like a teenager if she felt like it. And there I was, no boyfriend and no beauty. I felt so left out.

I went directly to my room and grabbed my cell phone and was about to call my dad. To my surprise, Dad called first.

“Hi, there little lady,” he greeted. Dad always knows how to cheer me up.

“Hi Daddy,” I greeted back, trying to hide my unhappiness.

“I remember there’s a special little lady turning 13 today,” he said. “Why don’t you come to my office and we can have dinner together.”

Now that made me smile. Daddy was one of the most successful lawyers in New York City. He worked as a senior partner at the York & Warwick, one of the largest and most powerful law firms of the city. He often worked late, but always managed to find time to spend with me. We would have dinner together at his office and we would share our little secrets. And we have nicknames for each other. I was “the Lady” and he was “Kingmaker”. 

I left the apartment without telling Izzy or Mother; I had my phone with me. Izzy could call if she cared; and she would. She may have the look, but I got the brain. I can be very precocious when it came to fashion and celebrity gossip – who wore what to what event and who started new line of make-up and/or fashion. I read all the fashion and gossip magazines and remember them from word to word. Izzy could fit into many pretty dresses, sadly she never knew which ones. But I do.

While walking away from my house, I passed by the house of Mrs. Jackie Rivers, the renown fortune teller and magician of the city. Many loathed her and called her a liar; Izzy called her a witch. She insisted that every time Dad lost a case, which is not very often, is because she cursed us. Mother forbade us to mention her in the house. But Mrs. Rivers was not without her fans – often, long line of people waited just to see her. And for once, I realized I am alone without a chaperone, which means if I want to, I can go and see her. She wouldn’t know who I am.

And there was a reason that I decided to see Mrs. Rivers, aside from curiosity and rebelliousness. Earlier on, I overheard a conversation between Mother and Izzy:

“Izzy, I see so much of me in you. Unfortunately, I cannot say that for Anne. I mean, look at her, not growing and getting fat. I’m afraid she won’t be able to find a husband when she comes to age.”

“Oh Mother, you shouldn’t worry. I’m sure Annie will find someone. Probably not someone hot like Hugh Jackman, but maybe like Jack Black.”  
…

I did not like what I’ve heard.

And so, maybe after consulting Mrs. Rivers, I could prove a least to myself that they’re wrong.

I walked up to her house and opened the door. The house may look like rundown from outside; it looked quite neat from inside. I looked around and Mrs. Rivers was nowhere in sight. “Hello?” I asked aloud. No one answered. 

I looked around. There was quite a lot of interesting stuff. Crystals, bottles of potions, herbs, bones, tarot cards, books…As I became absorbed to these new things, a cold hand came down to my shoulder. I jerked and turned. It was no doubt Mrs. Rivers.

“Who are you? And what do you want?” She did not look like a witch but certainly sounded like one. Cold and hostile.

“I…I am here to seek your help…” I managed to say.

“And what can I do for you?”

“I like to see if you can answer this question for me.”

“About your future husband?” She smirked. 

My eyes widened.

“Do you have money?” she asked.

“How much?” 

“$1,000.” She responded. From her tone, I could tell, there was no bargain.

“I don’t have that much of money,” I replied honestly.

“How much you got?” she asked. I only pulled out $20, completely forgotten that I’d need that for cab.

She stared at me hard in the face, as if she could see through my soul. After a long silence, she asked, “Can you clean?”

“What?”

“Can you clean?”

“I guess.” Not a dishonest answer. Although I hardly done any chore in my life, I watched our housemaids enough to know how.

“Tell you what girl, you come and clean my kitchen floor for a week. By then, I will give you the answer you seek.”

I nodded; I must really want the answer to this question: who will I marry?

Dinner with Daddy went by sweetly. Daddy was the best and we had a coconut cake together, my favorite desert. Of course, I did not tell him about my encounter with Mrs. Rivers.  
And I indeed swept and cleaned her kitchen for a week. Honestly, it was much better than spending time at home with Izzy and Mother. Mrs. River was not unpleasant at all, if you don’t get her pissed. She had her fair share of COD behavior, such as charging her fees by the pennies and her client had to be on time by the second. When she was with her client, she had to be alone with the client, meaning the door shut and curtain drawn. I could’ve cared less – all my heart was set on the answer to my question. As day 7 was approaching, I became excited as ever.

“You’re not someone born to clean, aren’t you girl?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“I guess you really want to know the answer then.”

“I do.” I replied.

“Why?”

I didn’t know how to answer her. And she stopped asking questions.

“Come with me,” she ordered. My heart started to beat fast. Finally, this is it!

I followed her into “the room”. We both sat and she lit the candles and asked for my right hand. She pinned my right hand on the table and drew the candlelight closer and stared at it for a long time. 

“What did you see?” I couldn’t help but asked.

“Shhhh!” Her faced looked creepy in the candlelight. 

I bit my tongue, fearing that she might get pissed and not telling me anything.

After a long while, her eyes fixed on my face. 

“You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?”

I nearly jumped at the question. “Why of course! I’m only thirteen!”

“Your husband…is not too far away from you…you will encounter obstacles…many obstacles…you will hurt him and he will hurt you…”

I didn’t like this.

“Are you saying…my future husband will be very abusive?”

“There are many forms of hurt.”

“But…I don’t…what is his name? What does he look like?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Oh boy, riddle me this and riddle me that.

And then she placed something in my hand. “Take this child. By the tomorrow’s sunrise, spread the dust in the air. And you will find your answer.”

It was a bottle of silver dusts.  
…

I felt somewhat cheated. But something was better than nothing.

I set up my alarm clock at 5 AM, so I could catch the sunrise. I didn’t need to do that actually, since I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. After a long wait, finally, it was dawn. I opened my window – my room is on the sixth floor – stuck my head and arms out and ready to spread the dust.

Only the bottle slipped out of my hand.

“No!!!” I shrieked.

The bottle fell and smashed into the windshield of a white Mercedes – the car of Daddy’s new senior partner, Edward York. It didn’t cause much damage, but nearly an accident.  
Without thinking, I ran out of my room and on to the street in my pajamas, apologizing profusely.

Stepping out of the car, Edward York, 6’4”, looked at me like I went mad. Behind him was his much shorter younger brother, Richard.

“What is this?” Edward looked down at me, with that bottle in his hand. 

“It’s mine.” I tried to reach it but couldn’t.

“Where you get it from?” he asked. I didn’t answer, but apparently he already guessed the answer.

Without a word, he pocketed the bottle and turned. “Come on Richard, let’s go.”

“Wait!” I ran to him. “You have to give it back to me. I need it!” Yes, it was one week of hard work and I earned it. And the sunrise would be passed, minute-wise.

Edward looked at me and said, “You should consider yourself lucky that I am happy today and not going to tell your parents. Go back to bed.”

And off go him and his quiet brother. Richard hardly ever spoke.

Only later I learned Edward took the bottle and went to see Mrs. Rivers. Maybe he wanted to berate her on tricking young girls; or perhaps he had something to consult her as well. Whatever the reason, one thing was for sure: that’s how he met his wife, Liz Woodville.


	2. A Wedding and A Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne Neville's narration on how she met her husband. AU setting.

Okay, a little recap: I got mad at my mother and Izzy on my thirteenth birthday. Rebellious as I was, I went to the house of Mrs. Jackie Rivers, the well-known fortune teller of NYC. In exchange of cleaning her kitchen for a week, she would tell me who my future husband is. I kind of got what I sought after: a bottle of silver dust which I was supposed to throw in the air during sunrise. Only that bottle fell from my hand and smashed into the windshield of the white Mercedes of my father’s senior partner, Ed York.

Now, three years later: I was sixteen. The “Bottle of Silver Dust” incident still bugged me somewhat, because I worked hard for it. Not that I still believed in those fortune-telling mumbo-jumbo.

Life became different for me in high school. I was still shy, and a little awkward. But I blossomed, in my own way. I was not the most attractive girl in school, but boys surrounded me like crazy. The reason: I was the chief-editor of the school newspaper. That’s right—all guys, athletes, musicians, top academic achievers—if they want to have a moment of limelight in the school media, they had to suck up to me. So, to sum it up—athletic guys showered me with small gifts, nerds offered me answers to homework questions, chorus guys offer me Backstreet Boys concert tickets. I got asked out, a lot; but I dismissed them because I knew what they really wanted. Give it, I was not Daddy’s daughter for nothing.

Izzy left home for college. She got accepted by New York University and was majoring in art history. I couldn’t help but wonder what she is going to do with it. Art history—best hope is a career in museum or in teaching. I could not picture Izzy in either field. In fact, I could not picture Izzy in any work field. Highly likely, she was going to follow the footsteps of Mother. Meet a rich guy and get married and become a full-time housewife.

And she did.

Soon after she graduated, she announced her engagement to George York, the younger brother of Ed York, my dad’s senior partner, aka the man who stole my magic dusts and used it for himself.

And let me give you a little overview on the relationship between my family and the York brothers:

My dad Richard Neville was the top student of Columiba law school; his best friend was the same. And they were both named Richard. After graduated law school, they established a law firm together. Daddymarried Mother, Miss Anne Beauchamp, a daughter of a wealthy banker. Uncle Richard married ex-model named CiCi, whom he knocked up in college. My mother just had Izzy and me. Uncle Richard and Aunt CiCi have three boys: Ed, George, and Richard. Ed is tall and handsome; he followed his father’s footsteps well and became a lawyer. George has a good charm and a smart-mouth. And then there’s Richard, the youngest brother who I assume was adopted. Unlike his brothers, Richard has dark hair, dark eyes; he was short and hardly ever speaks. For some reason, though, Daddy was very fond of him, always claim that Richard is someone who will achieve.

Our families hang out a lot. My mother and Aunt CiCi gossiped to the point of annoyance. And then tragedy hit—Uncle Richard was killed in a car accident. Daddy picked up all the pieces and kept the firm together. Once Ed graduated law school, Daddy named him as a senior partner, to the chagrin of other partners, or so I’ve heard. But Daddy insisted and other partners eventually gave in. This brought the Nevilles and the Yorks closer than ever.

Izzy always had a crush on George, even though I never liked him. I just thought he was a phony. I don’t know the details of their romance, and I still don’t to this day. But they were in love and George popped the question. She said yes.

As I expected, Izzy followed Mother’s footsteps becoming a full-time housewife.

***

Izzy was the typical bridzilla. She could not stop talking about the engagement and her wedding. Everything must be perfect.

As her maid of honor, I had to endure all her mood swings, yelling, and any type of emotional outbursts.

I could care less really; how many times could she get married?

The only time when I threw a tantrum was when I saw the seating arrangement of the wedding party. Why did I always sit next to Richard?

It was always like this: at any party held by our family, I sat next to Richard. I had nothing against him really. It was just so awkward sitting next to someone who never talks. And nothing in this world makes me happier than engaging in a good conversation.

I tried to talk to him, multiple times. The best conversation I had with him is: “Hi Richard, how are you?” His response: “Fine.” And the conversation went on with me talking to him and he responded with one word at the time. At Izzy’s wedding, I really did not want to be stuck with this type of person while Izzy danced with her prince-charming.

But Izzy insisted. Since Yorks and Nevilles are becoming a family, then all family members should sit in one table. Ed would sit with Liz, his wife; their daughters will sit with other kids; Mother sit next to Daddy; Aunt CiCi for some reason was not coming; and that left me sitting with Richard.

“Maybe you and him are meant to be,” Izzy told me, almost cruelly. “If you don’t have the look, you just have to accept that this is the only type of guy you can be with.”

That felt like a slap across the face.

***

I was still mad at her at her wedding.

My anger intensified when I found myself sitting next to Richard. I had no grudge against him; it’s just Izzy had to always acted like she was someone above me. In her mind, she was this beautiful princess marrying a royal prince. I was some dowdy peasant girl who was only good enough for a jester.

Anger grew inside me like fire, I kept my eyes down. Time to time, I glanced at Richard. What was wrong with him? Not a word? No comment on how good I looked in my dress? Not even offering me a piece of bread when the waiters passed the bread basket to the table? Then my attention turned to his looks. His hair was too long; his eyes were lack of soul; his face too pale; and his shoulders were uneven. Sitting next to him was like an endless torture.

Grabbing a napkin, with a pen in my hand, I spilled all my anger and emotions on the napkin:

_A boy by the name Richard_

_With uneven shoulders and a hunchback_

_Born into family of wealth_

_But it was reason and charm he lacks._

_Too small for Notre Dame_

_Too simple for English Crown_

_And never good enough for me._

Next to the verse, I drew a very unflattering picture of Richard, exaggerated his shortness, his shoulders, and particularly his back. I left that napkin on the table, could care less if he saw it. Honestly, even he did saw it, he wouldn’t give a shit.

***

The wedding was fabulous. Izzy became Mrs. George York. She moved into his lavish apartment in Manhattan. I remained a high school girl looking forward to college.

I got accepted by Columbia University and Dad was so proud. He knew I got the brain. Instead of some useless major, I chose to a double major in English and journalism. My plan was to become a magazine editor after graduating Columbia. Unlike Izzy, I was going to work for my living. My ultimate dream was to become editor-in-chief for Vanity Fair magazine. By then, Mother and Izzy would be sour-faced while seeing my photo on the front cover of Time Magazine as one of the Most Powerful Woman in the World.

As graduation approached, I busied myself with job application. Dad offered to help, but I insisted to do this on my own. He was so encouraging and supportive.

One evening, he called me to his office. Over a cup of coffee and some coconut cake, he told me something that he would never tell Mother of Izzy.

“When Richard and I first started this firm, it was just two of us. We rented a rundown office in the poorest side of the city. We couldn’t even afford a conference table.”

“What changed?” I asked.

“We won cases and earned money. Sometimes, Lady Anne, you need to learn how to achieve by failures.”

I nodded. Daddy was right.

“Anne, I am very proud of you,” he told me sincerely.

I almost cried.

I left his office and gave him a hug. “Don’t work too late,” I suggested. I noted how tired he had been lately.

“Sometimes there’s just business that need to be taken care of. You know those Woodvilles. One should never hire people without legal background as paralegals.”

Dad was referring to Liz Woodville’s family. After Ed York “stole” my magic silver dusts, he used it for himself. And he met and fell in love with Mrs. Jackie River’s daughter, Liz. Liz was five years older than Ed and was more like a mother to him rather than his wife. But the two were very in love and they had two daughters soon afterwards. Liz was a divorcee whose deadbeat husband walked out on her and left her with two boys. Not only Ed handled her divorce case, he also managed job positions for her brother and her uncle as helping hands in the firm. Dad did not like that; and it was not hard to see why. The Woodvilles had no legal experience; they caused compliance issues since day one. Dad had to pick up the pieces.

Dad did not come home that night.

He worked late and spent the night at the office.

The next day he headed to court, taking over a case that was messed up by George.

There, he had a fatal heart attack.

Daddy died.

My lost my only friend in my family.

***

The whole family was stunned. Mother shown no emotion; she could hardly eat. I spent most of my time alone in my room, crying from time to time. I don’t remember how Izzy reacted. Well, there are all types of grieving.

While three of us Neville women grieved, the York brothers helped with the funeral arrangements and legal procedures. Funeral is just a darker version of a wedding.

The funeral went by slowly, like a knife cutting my heart into pieces. My eyes focused on the casket. It would be the last time I see Daddy.

I walked away after the funeral service. Talking to no one, swallowing tears on my own. I didn’t walk away too far, I couldn’t. By the time it was dark, I returned to Daddy’s grave. I just stood there, said nothing. I closed my eyes, almost trying to connect to his soul.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Daddy…” I whispered weakly.

Fearfully, I turned. What I saw, I nearly tripped over Daddy’s grave. Behind me stood a young man, almost one foot taller than I, in a black coat. His wavy black hair made his face very pale. I almost took him as a ghost.

“No, it’s Richard,” he responded.

That frightened me even more. The first Richard that came to my mind was Daddy’s best friend, Uncle Richard York, father of Ed, George, and Richard. I remembered his face from the photos on Daddy’s desk.

So, the ghost of Richard seeking the ghost of Daddy?

“Everyone is worrying about you Anne,” he continued. “Come, I’ll take you home.” He took my hand and walked me home. I did not protest. Nor did I care. I just want to leave everything behind me.

Truth behold, Daddy is gone. He is not coming back.

***

Richard dropped me off at my apartment building. He offered to walk me to my apartment. I refused.

It did not even hit me that this young man, who offered so much kindness at this moment, was the same person whom I hated sitting next to at Izzy’s wedding.

With my heavy footsteps, I went to home.

Mother greeted me with a slap across the face.

“Where have you been? Why is it always you?” she demanded. Then realized what she had done, she reached out to hug me.

I backed up and refused. Without a word, I went to my room and locked the door behind me.

It was then I broke down finally and cried my heart out.

I was quite thankful afterwards that Daddy did live to see Mother doing that to me.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After watching Episode 10 midway, I decided to write something light. I cried after the scene when Anne died.


	3. How I met My Fiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU - Anne Neville on how she met her husband.

When you lost someone, you always gain something.

For me, when I lost Daddy, I gained some insight knowledge about myself that I should’ve known long ago: I hate my Mother.

Sounds evil, but it’s truthful.

To this day, I still have yet reconciled with her. She was not invited to my birthday or even to my wedding. I told Izzy, who would later be my maid of honor, straight forward that I don’t want Mother around. I meant every syllable of it, and I meant it literally.

Remember how I once described Mother as self-centered, arrogant and overbearing? Maybe I didn’t. But you should not be surprised to hear that.

Anyway, long story short, after Daddy passed away, it was just Mother and I living in the apartment. All I could think of was how to get the f*** out of here (please excuse my language). Living under the safe roof with her was just too much. For instance, she spent her days in the living room or in her bedroom, not doing anything useful aside from making condescending comments. Dear God, what type of life is this? It’s like living in a prison.

Mother is a typical type of person who believes that she knows everything and that she is perfect in every way simply by comparing her strength to other people’s fault. Let me give you an example: she kept on telling me that my clock is ticking and that I would not be able to have children by the time I find someone. She only said that to acknowledge she had something I didn’t since she could not bear the fact that I have two college degrees and that she does not. Mother is also a pathological liar. Once, she also told me that my migraine is caused by lack of oxygen in my brain. I googled it, and nothing came up. It was just BS.

Finally, I had it.

I stormed out of my apartment and never went back again.

No, I lied. I only went back once to retrieve my stuff.

I was driving from NYC to Boston for an interview. On my way back, Mother called and asked me if I can take her out for a cup of coffee. Surprised to the invite, I agreed. When I drove into a parking garage, I took the parking ticket and then left it in my car. Mother scolded me saying that I should take the ticket with me since I need to pay the parking fee at the machine near the parking entrance. I told her that I could also pay the parking fee _at_ the entrance. Her response?

“I PARK HERE YOU KNOW!”

When was the last time she left the apartment?

Does she even have a driver’s license?

I knew it was a mistake to spend any time with her.

Without a word, I turned and left. I drove straight back to the apartment complex. Basically, I left Mother behind.

She could call a cab for all I cared.

Back in my room, I sorted out my mails. Rejection letter, rejection letter…

Who could I talk to? Who could give me support?

Well, no one now.

I wasn’t really talking to Izzy at the time partially because I blamed George for Daddy’s death. Had George not messed up the case, then Daddy wouldn’t need to overwork and would probably still with us.

I really needed to get out of that apartment.

So, I pulled a Lindsay Lohan – dressed sexy, put on smear make-up, get drunk at the bar.

I was over 21, so it was legal.

I knew how to get ready for bar. I read magazines all the time and saw pictures on Internet. It wasn’t rocket science.

***

Called a cab, went to the bar, and ordered one shot after another.

I just wanted to feel different, to be taken away from this miserable world.

If I really got too drunk, I’d find a hotel nearby and spend the night there. Good get-away for one night. I needed one.

Two mistakes: I didn’t eat before going to the bar and I usually don’t drink. With an empty stomach, after two shots I could hardly stand. But I continued.

Maybe because I was mad at the world so that I wanted to do something dangerous or risky.

I honestly could not remember how much I drank that night. But I remember this: that was the most drunken experience I ever had.

My limbs were undisciplined; my head was dizzy; my eyes were sleepy; all I wanted to do is to sleep. And my stomach felt sick.

I don’t know why I did not take a cab. Maybe I was being nasty to the cab drivers or maybe I didn’t even know where to go. Somehow, I got to the subway.

And I bumped into someone.

And I vomited on someone.

And then I was out.

***

When I came to, everything was bright. My head hurt like hell and I felt so dizzy. You know, people usually say that they don’t recall the things they did while drunk. That’s a lie.

Or at least, I remember what happened last night, only that I didn’t want to talk about it. But how did I get here? And where was I?

I was not in a hospital. Nor was I in a hotel.

And it was not Mother’s apartment.

I managed to creep out of the bed, and tried to walk. Everything was blurry.

Was I kidnapped?

Then I saw a bathroom with a shower and a toilet. Without a word, I peed and washed my face. My face looked horrible. I didn’t pull a Lindsay Lohan, I _was_ Lindsay Lohan.

And then I was back on the bed again. Oh boy, was that bed comfortable or what?

I slept again. My body was just so heavy.

By the time I came to, for the second time, I felt much better. Putting on my shoes, I walked out of the bedroom and found myself face-to-face with an odd acquaintance: Richard York.

“You feel better now?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “You have any aspirin?”

He already prepared that. Shoving a glass of water and then hand me two tablets, I took those without a hesitation.

“You should’ve asked me what I gave you,” he commented. “What if it was date-rape drug?”

“I could’ve cared less.”

Taking a deep breath, I tried to clear my mind.

“What happened last night? How did you find me?” I asked him.

He smirked. “You ruined my new suit.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I was supposed to wear my brand new Aranmi suit for my case today, but you vomited all over it.”

“I’m sorry?” I didn’t know if I was apologizing or asking him to clarify.

“You were drunk, and totally shitfaced in the subway. And you bumped into me. At first I thought you were a call-girl. And then you started wailing. Next thing I know, you threw up all over me.” He looked me hard in the eye. “I got reprimanded by an elderly for not taking care of my ‘girlfriend’.”

I nearly laughed out loud.

“And you brought me here?”

“Yes, what else was I supposed to do? Anyway, to dry clean the suit cost me $200. How would you plan to pay that?”

My eyes widened.

“You want me to pay for your dry cleaning?”

“You damaged my property and you should pay.”

“What are you, a lawyer?”

That was a stupid question.

“Look,” I explained. “Life totally sucks. I just wanted to get away from it all. You don’t know what it is like—“

“And I don’t care.”

That was cold.

“Richard,” I let out a deep sigh. “You know how Daddy cared for you. Can’t you just go easy on me this time? How many times have I wronged you since the day I met you?”

His eyes turned cold like he could kill. That scared me.

“The dry cleaning cost $200. I’m being nice for not charging you for the room and boarding fee for last night. Now, it’s late and I have a dinner with a client of mine. When I come back, I want you _gone_.”

Would I dare to stay?

***

I did stay.

The reason was that I lost my purse and didn’t have a dime. My shoes were high heels. Stupid as it sounds, but I planned to wait until Richard comes back and loan me $20 for the cab.

By the time he came back, it was almost ten. He was talking to someone, sounded very frustrated. He opened the door, following him was a middle-aged, long-faced woman.

“Oh,” we looked at each other and made the same facial expression.

“Well, I guess you are telling the truth, Mr. York,” the woman told Richard without giving me a second look. “You behave yourself, for any child conceived outside of marriage is a grave sin against God.”

And she left.

Richard let out a big sigh of relief.

“A stalker?” I giggled. Too funny.

“What are you still doing here?” He threw all his frustrations on me.

“Saving you.” Not a bad answer.

“And thank you, and you can go now.”

“I can’t,” I replied. “I don’t have money. I don’t know the way back. I lost my phone, purse, and house key….and…A JOB OPPORTUNITY!!!”

I jerked up, tearing my hair.

“Oh my god,” covering my mouth with my hand, my whole body was shaking. “I’m supposed to get a call for a second interview. Now I lost my phone…”

I sat on his couch and was completely lost.

“What are you panicking about? Just get another interview.” He shrugged like I’m some sort of drama queen.

“You don’t understand. I need a job. Job means money. Money means living on my own. No job means no money means I’m stuck living with Mother.”

“What’s wrong living with your mom?”

“Either I lost my sanity or I die.”

“I think you already lost your sanity.” He pointed out.

“Maybe.” I started sobbing.

“Anne,” he looked at me. “You are not a kid anymore. Crying is not going to get you what you want. You got to grow up.”

Drying my tears, I snuffed, “You think I was acting? I was crying for real.”

He wasn’t buying it.

“Look Richard, I really have nowhere to go. Even if you want me out of here, I need some cash to get a cab.”

“That’s not my problem.” How could he be this cold?

“Can’t you just help me for Daddy’s sake?” That was my last card.

“You should be relieved that your father didn’t see you like this!”He scoffed.

That was it. I got up and slapped him right across the face. “Then you should’ve left me in that subway!”

I stormed out.

***

I didn’t know where to go. I tried to get a cab, but no money meant no ride.

Somehow, I managed to find the subway station. As I was going down on the escalator, I met the gaze of a strange young man who was going up.

His looks were memorable. His attitude reminded me of Richard back when we were young. Standing next to him was a gorgeous middle-aged woman with her hair stylishly up. She looked at me with disgust. 

Little I could’ve guessed: that was how I met my first fiancé, Edward Lancaster.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that some character gone a slightly OOC (out of character). But remember, it's modern day US of A. Old chivalry dies.
> 
> However, I firmly believe that that's how these TWQ characters would've been had they been modern day Americans.


	4. Edward and Richard

When you are alone in New York City, you should never be without three things: your house key, your credit card, and your cell phone. And that was what exactly happened to me.

After storming out of Richard’s apartment (and slapped him across the face), I tried to go home by taking the metro. That was actually quite stupid because although metro does not require cash, it is never free. Without a token, I couldn’t even pass the gate. So, the hopeless me had no other choice but walk out of metro station.

“Hey…Hey!” Someone called after me, in a British accent.

I ignored him at first since I knew no British guy.

“Love!” He ran after me and grabbed me by the arm, which shocked and confused me.

“I saw you in the metro station,” he said. “Do you need any help?”

It was the guy I saw on the escalator.

I let out a deep sigh, “Yes.”

He waved and a cab drove towards us.

“That won’t do any good. I have no money.”

“I will take care of that,” he said. He opened the door and waited for me to get in. This was just too good to be true.

After I got into the cab, he handed the cab drive $50 and told him, “Take the lady wherever she likes to go.”

The driver gave him a big grin and nodded.

I could not believe my luck. I rolled down the window, “Thank you.”

He gave me a smile and then tabbed the cab to send me off.

“Wait!” I stopped the cab driver. “What’s your name?” I asked after him as he was walking away.

“Edward,” he turned. “My name is Edward.”

I smiled in return. “Thank you Edward!”

I gave the cab driver my address and finally I got home.

***

In the lobby, I ringed for Mother so that she can let me in. No response.

Here we go again.

Sat in the couch, I waited until I fell asleep until the security guard woke me the next morning. I could not believe how pathetic I was.

Suddenly, the apartment complex’s main door opened. I found Izzy ran to me.

“Oh Annie, you poor baby!” She looked so worried that took my by total surprise.

“Izzy, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Come on, let’s go to my place and clean you up.” With her arm around my shoulder, she walked me out of the apartment complex. We got into the car, and George was driving.

***

George and Izzy used to live in an apartment in Manhattan. Now, they upgraded their living by moving into a townhouse. Once we got there, Izzy dragged me to see _her section_ of the house. Basically, the house was divided; there’s a George section and there’s a Izzy section. The two sections are connected by the living room. I found it odd. What is the point of get married if you live separately under the same roof?

“It’s an interesting arrangement,” I commented honestly. “Where did you get the idea?”

“From you!” she exclaimed happily.

“Me?” When did I give her that idea?

“Remember you told me about Tim Burton and that Helena what’s-her-name—“

“Helena Bonham-Carter.” I filled her in.

“Yes her. Anyway, you told me that they live in two houses connected by a tunnel…” She rambled on and on. To this day I still don’t remember when I told her this. Who could’ve guessed that she would take something like that seriously?

“And so, this is your section then,” I said, ending all her rambling.

“Yes!” She was so happy. “Here, I am the Duchess! George is not even allowed here without my permission. I can invite whoever I like and do whatever I want!”

“So, I can stay here for the time being?” I asked.

“Of course! You’re my sister,” she sat me down and poured me a cup of tea. “Richard called and told me everything.”

 _Oh boy._ I wondered what he said.

“It’s no big deal,” I started.

“Yes, it is. It is a great deal!” she exclaimed. “It is not acceptable!”

“I know, I was stupid…”

“No Annie! You shouldn’t blame yourself! After all, nobody asked to be mugged—“

“Mugged?” _What was she talking about?_

“Richard called me and told me that you got mugged last night. Some drunken asshole grabbed your purse and knocked you to the ground. Richard was so nice, he took you to his place and have you spent the night there while he slept on the couch. That guy must been so drunk, he even smacked Richard in the face,” she almost giggled.

“How would you know that?” I asked. “I bet Richard made that up.”

“George saw him this morning. Someone definitely smacked him, hard.”

Now I felt guilty, but not as much as I felt bad for myself.

“And here I am, lost my purse and my cell phone. I cannot even check my email.”

“You can certainly use my computer,” Izzy offered generously. “The password is…” She bent down and whispered in my year.

Shocking. And I am not going to tell.

“Anyway, I have to go meet George for coffee. You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” I told her. “Does Mother know I am here?”

“I’ll call her.”

With that said, she was gone.

***

I spent the rest of the day checking emails and surfing sites. As much as I hate to admit, Izzy’s house arrangement was actually pretty sweet. I like the privacy, not have to worry about George walking in at anytime.

Then one crucial email popped inbox: an interview with La Mode Publishers as assistant to chief editor—must return the call by 4:00 PM today to schedule the interview.

Finally!

But wait, is there a phone in the house?

I looked around and I could not believe there is no landline.

Immediately I shot Izzy a message via Google chat and email. And she responded:

_Richard has your phone. He found it in his toilet this morning and you forgot to flush. LOL._

Without a word, I took the remaining cash from Edward, flew out of Izzy’s townhouse, called the cab, and rushed to Daddy’s law firm.

***

Traffic was horrible. I swear, there is a god of traffic. The more you’re in a hurry, the worst traffic is.

By the time I got there, it was already 3:50 PM.

Hopefully Richard was there.

After I got out of the cab, I flew into the building, took the stairs, and barged into the office.

There stood Richard as if he was waiting for me, smirking with my phone in his hand.

I ran to him and grabbed the phone and then tried to run out of the building.

Only I ran into the conference room instead. I turned and ran out of the conference room, only then the phone rang.

“This is Anne Neville,” I answered the phone, tried to sound as calm as I could. Just as I expected, it was La Mode Publisher. Grabbing the pen closest to me (which was from Ed’s breast pocket) and a piece of paper (ripped from the poster), I wrote down the time and date of the interview.

Now I could breathe.

Only then I realized that everyone in the firm was staring at me—Richard, Ed, Liz, George, Anthony, Francis, and everyone else.

“Anne,” Liz spoke, coldly. “I know this your father’s legacy in this firm. But this is not your father’s firm anymore. And I am positive that your father wouldn’t approve your behavior today.”

How embarrassing! It was also the moment I realized that I would not like her.

Before I could say anything, Richard interfered, “I’ll take care of this.”

He took my arm and walked me out.

“And here’s my business card,” chimed Francis, Richard’s best friend and now partner. “Call me when you need an attorney!”

Richard gave him a death glare and literally pulled me out of the firm.

***

“You are such a troublemaker,” he told me. I looked at him, and realized the bruise on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I felt so bad.

“You owe me more than an apology.”

“I know. I’m sorry that I vomit on your new suit. I’m sorry that I occupied your bed and forced you to sleep on the couch. I’m sorry that I dropped my cell phone in your toilet. I’m sorry that you have to go through all that trouble to clean it up.”

“And?”

“And I’m sorry that I hit you.”

That was the crucial point.

“Look,” I explained. “Mother and I got into an argument that day. I just hated every time she puts me down. I’m not like Izzy, you know. Have a job and earn my own money. It means a lot to me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

“I guess now with that interview set, I can be normal again.”

“I bet.”

He walked me to a café bar and we sat. It was odd, just me and him.

With him sitting right across from me, suddenly for the first time in my life, I found him strikingly attractive. Dark hair, ivory skin, and dark eyes—and when he smiles, if he smiles.

“So, what was the deal with my phone?” I changed the topic.

“Apparently you dropped in my toilet and you didn’t flush. You get the picture. I have to fish it out, clean it, and dried it. And it’s working.”

“Thanks for everything.” I meant it.

“You still owe me $200.”

“For what?”

“For my suit.”

And then the waiter placed a cup of hot latte and a coconut cake before me.

“Now $225.”

***

Richard walked me back to my apartment. Before we parted, I looked at him and kind of waited for him to kiss me.

And odd feeling but true.

“You take good care of yourself,” he told me. “Especially if you want to live on your own.”

“You won’t be there for me?” I asked innocently.

He didn’t answer.

He moved closer and I thought he was going to kiss me.

Turned out it was as if he was going to kiss me.

He moved a strand of my hair from my face and patted me on the back of the head. “Go home.”

As if I was his annoying sister.

 _Oh well_.

I went in and rang for Mother. This time she answered and let me in.

Without a word, I packed my things and went to live with Izzy, hopefully just for a couple of days.

I still couldn’t understand Richard. A part of me felt that he cares for me and another part of me felt that he finds me annoying.

But whatever.

I, Anne Neville, will start a new chapter in my life: a new job and a new apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the story so far. 
> 
> Comments please!


	5. The Earl and His Mother

Until my interview today, I had never met any woman as unpleasant or as mean as her.

Her I meant my new boss.

Her I meant my soon-to-be mother-in-law.

When I scheduled my interview with La Mode Publisher, I was so thrilled. Finally, I would have a job and live on my own. And yet, the moment I entered her office, all the positivity washed away.

Her, Margaret D’Anjou-Lancaster, the President of La Mode Publisher.

A fine-looking middle-aged woman, with fierce eyes that can penetrate through my soul. She greeted me coolly and studied my face.

“Humph!” She snorted. “So, you think you can work with me?”

“Yes,” I replied, trying to sound as confident as I could. But speaking with her was like a mouse trying to stand up to a cat.

“I beg to differ,” she almost spat. “I don’t like your hair and I certainly don’t like your make-up or your outfit. A person like you doesn’t fit into my circle.”

I sat in silence, had no clue how to respond to that. Either I was stunned at her rudeness or had second thoughts about this position.

“You’re just a waste of life,” she continued. “Get out.”

And thus end of my interview.

I left without a word.

My mind was complete blank. I had quite a few interviews since graduation and yet, I never had one this short, this mean, or this cruel. Or maybe it was for the better. Sometimes, during interviews, people might give you the warmest smiles, but then coldly send you a rejection a few weeks later. At least, this was quick.

And who could’ve guessed that just seconds before I exited the building, I was called back.

I got the job.

Oh wow.

***

La Mode Publisher is a huge magazine publisher in New York City; it produces multiple magazines that cover current issues, lifestyles, and fashion. Margaret, or The Queen as everyone called her in the company, was the President of La Mode Publisher. My nickname for her: The Bad Queen.

People at La Mode Publisher were nice to a certain extent. But not everyone was nice to me. Some people avoided me at the break room while others treated me as if I don’t exist. I didn’t like that, but that was the least of my worries. My top priority was to please The Bad Queen as much as I could. Hopefully, I could stay for one year without get fired and then with new credibility, find job elsewhere. Soon though, I learned the reason behind people’s attitude towards me.

Meet the Bad Queen’s son: Edward Lancaster, aka the British man who loaned me $50 for taxi, aka that slightly weird guy I met on the escalator at the metro station.

He appeared before me one day and asked me out for dinner. At first, I thought he was just another employee. Happy to see a friendly face, I said yes. He picked me up after work, driving a white Mercedes that looked familiar. We drove out of the city and went to a fancy French restaurant.

Edward was indeed a British gentleman. He followed all these upper-class manners during meals, such as no elbow on the table. He was quite serious about it for he taught me all these rules the entire 40 minutes when we waited for the main dish. Interesting, but made me feel a little low. It was during the meal he revealed that Margaret is his mother. I was shocked.

“Margaret is your mother?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh, I did not know that.”

“But you do now,” he said. “My father is an English nobleman, and I have a title as well.”

“You have a title?” One surprise after another, only this was a more pleasant one. Dinner with an English nobleman—this was like romance novel.

“My father met Mum and they had me here. Before I was two, my father went back to England. When I was eight, I went to London to attend boarding school. I came back to US last year.” Hence his accent.

“What is your title?” I asked.

“I am the 25rd Earl of Westminster.”

An _earl_ …

The dinner went on nicely. It would’ve been sweeter had he stopped criticizing my manners.

“Would you like to take a walk?” I suggested.

“No,” he replied. “It’s after eight. I could catch a cold if I exposed to air at this hour.”

I made no comment.

He drove me back to Izzy’s place. On the way back, he told me, “You know, you got this job because of me.”

“You?”

“Right after you walked out, I went to talk to Mum. I insisted that you’re the right person and Mum changed her mind. She rarely does.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I like you,” with that said, he leaned over and kissed me.

How romantic!

Then he took my hand and kissed it. “Good night, my lady.”

“Good night, Edward.”

***

Two weeks later, I moved out of Izzy’s place and got my own apartment. The place was small but useful. George and Izzy helped and they tried not to make remarks. Before they left, Izzy hugged me and told me that I could always move back to her place. Like that’s ever going to happen.

The truth was that I was hardly at the apartment while working for Margaret. Her routine was: whatever she wants, whatever she gets in the next five minutes. Every morning, I had to get up at 4:00 AM so that I could catch the metro and get to her office and set everything up in the way she wanted. Then, I had to set her schedule up for the meetings and phone conferences. All her suits had to be arranged by brands and colors. All her folders must be placed in a certain order. One mistake, however tedious, would mean endless berates. Margaret’s tongue was sharp and she knew which buttons to push. To get all the work done, I stayed at work until eight to nine.

My biggest disappointment was that the position did not give me the opportunities to use my real skills. Margaret never let me do anything related to editing or writing. She treated me as if I was her personal maid. Once I heard that La Mode Publisher was going to introduce a new magazine focusing on women’s lifestyle issues, I asked her if I can apply a new position as a junior editor for the new magazine. She gave me a glance as if I went mad.

“Look, I only employed you at my son’s insistence. Nepotism is not well-appreciated here. I have tolerated you enough and you have the nerve to ask for more.”

She said no more. That was my cue to leave.

During lunch hours, I went out to grab something. I counted the weeks I worked here and wondered exactly how long I can survive. Truly, it was an emotional torture.

“Anne!” Someone called.

I turned around, it was Richard.

“Going out for lunch?” I asked.

“Yeah, I have a case at three. So, I’m going to grab a sandwich.”

“There’s a café nearby, you wanna go there?”

“Sure.”

We sat; while Richard ate heartily, I only sipped my latte.

“You look a little down,” he noticed. “Things got tough at work?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “My boss is impossible to please; everyone at work hates me; I don’t know how to do anything right; and the only reason I’m still there is because I’m dating my boss’s son.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “You’re seeing someone?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I haven’t told anyone yet. It’s nothing serious.”

“You know, Liz did not work with us until she married Ed.”

“So you’re saying that my situation is an awkward one.”

Richard said noting.

“I asked my boss if I could apply for another position within the company, and she shut me down.”

“What’s the new position?”

“Junior editor for the new magazine that covers lifestyle issues. I am a Columbia graduate with dual degrees. I have glowing recommendations from my professors. I deserve a chance!”

“If you can tell me that, why can’t you tell your boss?”

I laughed. “Like she is someone you can talk to. That woman is a total—“

Richard shushed me before I could finish. “Don’t. You never know someone can hear that and report it to your boss.”

I grinned. Checking the time, I realized that I need to head back to work.

“I have to get back. Thanks Richard, for listening.”

“Work is never easy, remember that.”

***

Soon after I got back, I was informed that Margaret wanted to see me. _What did I do now?_

“About the conversation we had earlier today,” she said, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “I believe I spoke the truth. But tell me, do you really want that position?”

“Yes.” I said with full confidence.

“You think you can do the job?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?” She asked without even looking at me.

“Because I wanted to do this since the day I learned to walk. I am a Columbia graduate with a dual degree in English and Journalism. This is something I’m born to do!” I raised my voice a little, but I spoke with full confidence. For the first time ever, I talked to her in such a tone.

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, ever?”

“Yes, every morning.”

Finally, she turned herself around and looked at me in the face. “You can be a editor or you can be a editor for La Mode. If you want to be a editor for La Mode, you have to be a editor _of_ La Mode. You cannot look like some middle class American girl, a fish out of water.”

Then she threw me a copy of a fashion magazine. “There is a banquet this evening, and you will be there. I will let you know my decision tomorrow.”

***

It’s three in the afternoon. The banquet would start at seven. So I got four hours.

I flipped though the magazine, trying to decipher exactly what was Margaret having in her mind. Was she expecting me to change my looks?  Judging from her character, she probably wanted me to have some serious make-over. This reminded me back in the days when Izzy tried to give me a make-over. How I hated it! But this time, it’s different. There are things I have to do; sacrifices are to be made. So, I went to a salon and had my hair cut and dyed blonde. And then, I had them had my make-up done with smoky eyes. Finally, I picked a nice, black mini-dress and a jacket over it.

All done, the new me: shoulder-length blonde hair, sexy smoky eyes, in a mini-dress that shows off my legs.

Something was missing, right? Oh yes, a pair of nice heels.

Now _all_ done.

By the time I arrived to the banquet, I saw Margaret with Edward by her side. Some co-workers were there too. At first, they did not even recognize me. It even took Edward some seconds to recognize me as well. He was quite thrilled with my new looks. Margaret, as usual, said nothing.

The next morning, Margaret told me that I got the position as the junior editor for the new magazine of La Mode Publisher. The new magazine was still in process. Once everything set, I would set in a new position.

That evening, Edward took me out.

And he proposed.

And I said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you google image of Faye Marsay, you'll find a very nice picture of her with lighter hair and smokey eye make-up. She looks absolutely gorgeous. 
> 
> I know the story is a little slow, and some of you may be waiting for Anne/Richard scenes. You won't be disappointed, I promise you that.


	6. And then it all went wrong...

I dreamed a dream…that I have a dream job, that I earn my own success, that I married a British noble…

…But life killed the dream I dreamed.

Some people believe that love is fated while others believe that love is something you make for yourself. I am the latter. But, sometimes with the ways things turned out, I can’t help but wonder if there is a god of love that is making arrangements from above. Maybe, from the moment I said “yes” to Edward’s marriage proposal, Cupid was crying “No, no, no!” and started to throw water balloons at me.

I’m serious.

After Edward and I got engaged, we kept it to ourselves until the truth came out because it had to. By then, everything fell apart—literally.

One week after our engagement, Edward and I went on a business trip to meet with the President of a fashion company. The purpose was to see if their new fashion line is worthy for La Mode Publisher to help promote. I booked two business class tickets to fly to Chicago. Our seats located in the center lane with three seats in in each row. Edward sat in the left one; I took the center one.

And guess who sat on my right?

I swear I did not plan it.

When the flight took off, that person on my right was reading a sports magazine. Then the flight stewardess came by and poured him a glass of wine. That person put down the magazine and thus revealed his face.

It was Richard.

Edward on my left and Richard on my right.

When he turned, he was surprised to see me.

“Anne?”

“Oh hi Richard,” I greeted, tried suppress the butterflies in my stomach.

“You are a blonde now?” He was surprised by my new look, not too thrilled.

“Richard?” Edward leaned over. “Introduce me, please.”

I inhaled deeply, and introduced Edward to Richard, “Richard, this is Edward Lancaster, my boss’s son.”

“Please to meet you,” Richard nodded.

“And her fiancé,” Edward added, showing him my left hand. “We got engaged one week ago.”

He then snaked his arm around my shoulder as if I were a toy that Richard tries to steal.

“Oh congratulations,” Richard said, didn’t really sound like he was happy for me.

“We haven’t told anyone yet,” I muttered.

“I guess your friend Dickon is the first one to hear.”

“Please, it’s Richard,” Richard insisted as he swallowed his wine. “Another glass please,” he instructed the stewardess.

_Dickon…_ That was funny.

“So,” Richard turned to us. “How did you two meet?”

“We met by destiny,” Edward answered for both of us, much to my discomfort. “That night was dark, very dark with a moon in the sky…”

“I believe it’s like that every night,” Richard chimed. “But please continue.”

“My mother and I got off the tube and then while I was going up on the escalator, I saw her going down. We exchanged gaze and by then, Cupid shot me in the heart. I could not look anywhere else. I thought I lost her—“

“How could’ve you lose her if your eyes were on her all this time?” Richard asked, discrediting his story.

“He was going up and I was going down. We were going in different directions,” I explained, trying to keep smiling.

“Love, let me tell the story,” Edward scolded. “And then, I found her and saved her, twice. First, I helped her get home. The poor lass was lost without a sterling. It was I who paid for her taxi and send her home. I watched as the taxi drove away. And then, one day, when Mum was interviewing candidates, I saw her again. Mum threw her out after merely two minutes and it was I who convinced Mum to change her mind.”

I blushed. “Edward—“

But he continued on. “Mum groomed her with the new looks and new attitudes while I showered her with love. Very soon, she will be the new Lady of Westminster.”

“Oh,” that’s all Richard said and then asked for a glass of vodka.

“The future is ours. By the time we marry, we will rule La Mode and divide our time between our mansion and our castle in England. The Honorable Earl and his Lady of Westminster!” His fingers intertwined with mine. To me, his hand felt like a dragon’s claw.

“I hate to spoil your happiness, _Ted_ ,” Richard said, almost condescendingly. “That night you met your fiancée was right after your fiancée spent the night at my place.”

“Richard!”

“Oh yes,” Richard continued mercilessly. “Your lass was out partying at the bar and was very drunk. It was I who rescued her when she was vomiting to death at the metro station. I took her to my place where she spent the night in _my_ bed two nights in a row.”

“I was in the bed and he slept in his couch in the living room,” I explained to Edward, hating Richard for bringing it up. “And then he threw me out, very ungentlemanly.”

“After you slapped me across the face,” Richard added.

“Were you two seeing each other then?” Edward asked, his hand clutched mine tighter than ever.

“No!” Richard and I answered in unison.

“All I have to say is, Ted, that you might want to be careful with her. This girl bites,” Richard said matter-of-factly.

“My name is Edward,” Edward corrected him. “And I am an Earl, remember that.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but this is United States of America. As an honorable citizen of this country, I am not required to show you such respect. American Revolution and War of 1812 guaranteed that. Here, we are all equal.”

Edward gave him an annoying glance and said nothing more. Boy, was I relieved that the conversation was over.

While Richard was finishing his drink, Edward was taking his vitamins. He took out about ten different colored vitamin pills and arranged them in alphabetical order. Once he told me that he had to take these vitamins so that he would not get cancer. According to _him_ , not me. Richard saw it all and grinned. I pretended not to notice.

_So this is the guy you are marrying?_ His eyes said it all.

***

The meeting in Chicago was short. Honestly, it was a waste of time. That fashion company launched a new line of T-shirt, priced $95 each. They told us that they spent days designing it. When I saw it, I saw nothing other than an ordinary white T-shirt that didn’t look different from the ones sold at Wal-Mart. I certainly did not support the idea of La Mode investing resources to promote this; but the ultimate decision was Margaret’s.

When we flew back to New York City, it was just Edward and I. Thank God.

“I have a secret to tell you,” Edward whispered in my ear as we were leaving the airport.

“What is it?”

“I have a hobby—writing.”

“You write?” I was surprised, but thrilled too. Finally we had something in common.

“Yes, and I have written a book.”

“Really, is it a novel?”

He nodded. “But I haven’t shown it to anyone yet. I want you to be the first person to read it.”

Now that made me smile. He trusted me and finally we were sharing something without any involvement from his mother.

From his briefcase, he took out the manuscript. “Let me know what you think. Please keep in mind, I wrote it for you.”

I took the manuscript and gave him a kiss. “I’ll read it, but don’t mind if I can be critical when it comes to writing.”

“I trust you.” With that said, he waved me goodbye and took a taxi to meet Margaret. I headed back to my place.

***

From the moment I put down the manuscript, my cell phone rang non-stop. It was Mother and Izzy, for different things.

Mother reached out to me, asking if she can come over to see my place. Izzy wanted to talk to me and invited me out to dinner.

Out of those two choices, I prefer the latter. I told Izzy that I’ll meet her for dinner at six. Yet, just minutes before I left my apartment, Mother was at the door.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “I told you that today is not going to work.”

“I want to come over and see how you are doing,” she explained.

I was not convinced. “I lived here for months and now you just happened to care?”

“Anne, I know that we don’t see from eye to eye. But can’t you for once see me as your mother who cares?”

“No,” I said truthfully. “You made life impossible for me. You always put me down. In your eyes, I’m always faulty, unworthy. I’m not going allow you to stay here and make condescending comments. This is my place and everything will go as I say!”

“You can’t throw out your own mother!”

“Yes I can,” I told her. “And you better leave now because I’m have a dinner tonight with Izzy. FYI – you are _not_ invited.”

“I can’t go anywhere,” she said pathetically. “I got evicted.”

“We’ll talk about it when I get back,” I left without another word.

***

Izzy and I met at Olive Garden, our favorite place. She looked sad.

“Is everything all right?” I asked her, concerned.

“George and I really want a baby,” she told me tearfully. “We tried…and today we went to the doctor’s. The doctor told us that it was me who can’t conceive.”

My eyes widened. “No….”

“The doctor told me that I can only get pregnant once a blue moon—“

“Maybe you should see another specialist. You can’t just take one doctor’s word for it.”

Izzy looked at me. “I don’t ovulate and my menstrual has always been irregular.”

I said nothing.

“Annie, I like to ask you a favor, please,” she pleaded. “Actually two favors.”

“What is it?” I took her hand in mine.

“Mother got evicted,” Izzy said. “I don’t know what happened, but she got kicked out of her apartment complex. She was living with George and I, but with all this going on, George can’t have her around.”

“You are not asking me to take her in, are you?” I feared for the worst.

“I am, and this is the easier favor,” Izzy muttered.

“What’s the other favor?” I started to become uncomfortable.

“Would you…by any chance…like to be the surrogate mother for my baby?”

I nearly choked on my latte. “What?”

“Annie please,” Izzy cried. “I really want a baby. George and I have been fighting a lot lately. I know he is mad at me for not giving him a child. He really wants to be a father and he wants his own biological son.”

Now that ruled out adoption.

“Don’t tell me you want to do this now.”

“Of course not at this moment,” Izzy said. “But I hope this can be done before you get married.”

“How did you know?”

“Richard told me.”

Oh great, that big mouth.

I let out a deep sigh. “Look Izzy, I love to help you and you are my one and only sister. But tonight, I have to end this conversation. Mother is at my place and I don’t even know where she’s going to sleep. Edward and I haven’t even told his mother about our engagement yet. I have lots of shit to sort out.”

And suddenly I had a strange feeling that the engagement with Edward would not work out.

***

By the time Izzy and I left Olive Garden, it was half past eight. Before we reached to the metro station, we were approached by two strangers.

“Miss Anne Neville?” One of them asked.

“Yes?” I responded, a little frightened. 

He flashed his badge. “Manhattan Homicide. We need you to come with us.”

“May I know what this is all about?” I shuddered.

Without an explanation, his partner grabbed my arm and cuffed me.

“Annie!” Izzy was shocked, covered her mouth with her hands.

“Anne Neville, you are under arrest for the charge of conspiracy to commit murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…”

“Annie!” Izzy tried to stop the detectives. “You can’t take my sister! She’s not a criminal!”

The whole thing was like a bad dream. Unfortunately, it was all real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this chapter. Comments please!


	7. Fiction and Murder

I used to be a big fan of television shows like “Law and Order” and “The Practice”. Daddy laughed at those shows, calling them cheesy. I once asked him on how realistic those legal dramas are. Daddy’s exact response: the portrayal of legal proceeding is all BS but depiction of human instinct is all too real. He couldn’t be more right.

What happened to me, and to all of us, was like a big cruel joke that almost destroyed my entire family – even the York brothers inevitability got involved. But the York brothers ended up okay, only with George and Richard not on talking terms for a long while. As for me, the whole incident changed me, for the better or worse. All in all, this entire incident was a dark and awkward page in our lives that no one is willing to look back or talk about. Even to this day, I am still not uncomfortable to bring it up.

Sitting behind bars and charged with "conspiracy" and "murder", I was speechless. Maybe they mistaken me for someone else. Maybe the whole thing was a misunderstanding. Soon, they would let me go. I had no idea what I did, or rather, did not do. I was and dumbfounded. A few minutes later, an officer brought me to the police interrogation room for questioning. To my relief, before me stood a gentle-looking balding middle aged man. He took a seat before me and started to ask questions.

“Your name is Anne Neville, is that correct?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Yes,” I nodded, trying to be as cooperative as possible.

“Do you live with your mother?”

“No,” I replied. “I moved out a few months ago. I live by myself.”

“I see you are engaged,” he pointed at my engagement ring on my left hand. “Who’s your fiancé?”

“He’s a son of supervisor; he’s British.”

Our conversation continued. At the time, I thought things would turn out fine. This man seemed nice and asked casual questions, I answered them all honestly. I thought this would secure my release—big mistake.

Once our conversation ended, he left me alone in the interrogation room. Soon, a police officer entered and cuffed me again. I was taken back behind bars.

It was then panic took over my entire body. With my hands shaking, I asked the guard if I can call my sister.

And speaking of sister, where is Izzy? Shouldn’t she done something by now? Such as ask George to get me out of this mess?

I was allowed to call, but under watch. It was so humiliating.

I called Izzy’s cell and after five rings, she picked up.

“Izzy,” I started crying. “Where are you? Help…”

I was losing my voice and my hand could barely hold the phone.

“Annie…here talk to George!”

“Anne?” It was George’s voice.

“George, please, get me out of here.”

“Where are you?”

I almost died. “I’m in jail.”

“What?” He responded in disbelief.

“They brought me down here for questioning and held me here for something I didn’t do. I don’t know…it’s about murder and conspiracy or something. Can you at least get me out of here tonight?”

“Anne, relax. Don’t say another word to anyone. I’ll be there.” And thus end of our conversation.

I breathed a little better. George is a lawyer and he’s family. As for me, I was a candidate of his baby’s surrogate mother. My guess at that time was soon after he cleared up this misunderstanding, I would have to go to some OBGYN clinic with him and Izzy and carry their baby for them. Fair deal.

***

 _I’ll be there_ —not.

I should’ve known better than reach out to George at the time of need. How could I forget that George is the most unreliable person in the world? He was the Black Sheep of the family and of the law firm. Ed tolerated him because George is his brother; Daddy tolerated him because George is his son-in-law. I trusted him because he is my brother-in-law. I guess none of this motivated him to change for the better.

Long story short, George never showed. I spent the night in contempt and was brought to trial the next day for preliminary hearing. On the other side of the court room stood the same man who questioned me in the interrogation room. Immediately, I sensed that the talk I had with him yesterday would serve me no good—at best. The Judge was a middle-aged woman who did not look sympathetic. She opened the case folder and then turned her sight on me.

“Anne Neville? Is your father the late attorney Richard Neville?”

“Yes,” I responded meekly.

“This is quite unusual,” she commented. “And you don’t have a lawyer?”

“I should,” I answered, trying to convince myself that.

“Do you or do you not?” The Judge was not a patient person. “If you don’t, we can appoint one for you, unless you want to represent yourself.”

“I…I…” I didn’t know what to say.

And then a strong voice behind me spoke, “Richard York for the Defense!”

I turned; it was Richard, all dressed up in his suit and tie.

“Very well,” The Judge continued. “How do you plea?”

“Not guilty,” Richard replied in full confidence. “The Defense requests the charges to be dropped on the ground of no hard evidence.”

“The state remands,” the Prosecutor argued. “There is evidence and the person who filed the charges is the defendant’s own mother. The state requests bail to be denied.”

_Charges filed by defendant’s own mother? My mother? My mother filed charges against me?_

“The evidence is circumstantial at best; and her arrest was unconstitutional.”

“How unconstitutional?” the Prosecutor glared at him.

“My client was arrested and interrogated without legal counsel,” Richard insisted.

“Her Miranda rights were read to her, she did not ask for a lawyer, and spoke on her own will!”

“All right,” the Judge pounded the gable. “Mr. Stanley, you have evidence to support your case?”

“Yes, I do,” the Prosecutor, Mr. Stanley, answered. “The evidence is found in the defendant’s own apartment.”

“What evidence?” I demanded.

“Mr. York, please control your client,” the Judge ordered. Richard grabbed my hand and gave me a serious look. _Don’t say anything, let me handle this._

“The bail set at $10,000, cash or bond. The defendant shall turn in her passport and any other traveling document. Next case.” That was it.

Richard grabbed my arm and took me out of the court room. “George will handle the bail. You are coming with me.”

***

We went straight to the law firm. I hadn’t been there since the day I ran here to retrieve my cell phone. When I got there, I was the center of attention again, only now for different reason. Liz was nicer this time. She poured me a cup of tea and asked if I were all right. I looked around, and George was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t even bother,” Liz read my mind. “Had you called Ed or anyone else, you would’ve got out of there last night.”

I didn’t respond to that only because I couldn’t find my voice.

I followed Richard to the conference room. Soon, we were joined by his best friend, Francis Lovell.

“Anne, are you okay?” he asked.

I looked at him, and then at Richard. “Do you know what this is all about?”

“Before I say anything, promise me that you will keep calm,” Richard said to me in a very serious tone.

“Okay,” I promised. “Just tell me what happened. Why was I arrested?”

“Your mother called the police last night saying that you are going to kill her—“

“What?!” I shouted and jumped out of my chair.

“Didn’t I tell you to calm down?” Richard sounded angry and annoyed.

“Calm down?” I retorted in disbelief. “Does she even have any ground to support this?”

“Tell me, that manuscript found in your apartment, did you write it?” Richard asked.

“What manuscript?” And then it hit me. “Oh _that_ manuscript. It is Edward’s. When we left the airport yesterday, he told me that he wrote a book and wants me to look at it. I never had the chance.”

“Do you have any idea what the book was about?” Francis asked. His tone was nicer than Richard’s.

“No, Edward never told me. After I got home Izzy called and Mother came over. We argued and then I left to have dinner with Izzy.”

“What did you and your mom argued about?” Richard asked. “Did you say anything unpleasant to her?”

“Well, she asked if she could move in with me and I told her no,” then I changed the subject. “Did you read the manuscript?”

“Yes,” Richard nodded. “As your attorney, I have the right to review the evidence since the whole case was basically built based on the manuscript.”

“And what did he write?” I asked.

“Anne, I think it’s the best for you not to know,” Francis suggested. “Since you did not write it or read it, the fact of you not knowing the details of that manuscript can be your argument for your case.”

Before Richard could say another word, Ed walked in. “Francis, take a hike. I am going to take the second chair for this case.”

“Ed, butt out,” Richard was not happy with Ed’s sudden intrusion. “I believe I can handle this.”

“Not with William Stanley prosecuting,” Ed stood firm by his decision. Hearing his tone, Francis complied and left.

“Good luck Anne,” he patted my shoulder.

Ed looked at me and spilled the beans. “This is going to be a tricky case Anne. I’m not trying to scare you, but the worst case scenario, you are looking at 25 years to life. If you want the best scenario, you need me on this case.”

“Stop!” I raised my hands in the air. “Stop with all these riddles! Please, just tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Your mother called the police last night saying that you are going to kill her based on the plan you wrote and placed on your desk.”

Hearing that, I started laughing. Nothing was funny, but everything was ridiculous.

“You mean the manuscript? It’s a fiction novel wrote by Edward,” I told him as I already told Richard. “I’ll just have Edward explain to the police and the whole case would be solved.”

“Anne, this is serious business,” Ed told me in a dark tone. “And let me tell you something about this William Stanley. He is one of the toughest and manipulative ADA in New York and he was your father’s arch-rival. Your father had overturned his cases and defeated him many times. Stanley would want you behind bars even if you are innocent.”

Now that frightened me.

“You can have Edward tell the whole world that he wrote this out of his imagination,” Ed continued. “But Stanley can still argue that Edward was saying that to protect you. The charge is conspiracy to commit murder—it means that you planned to commit a crime, even if no crime is committed. As for the manuscript, it was typed and was written in first person’s point of view in present and future tense; it also includes drawings and maps. Therefore it is difficult to argue if it is absolute fiction.”

“Edward can also testify against you,” Richard added, to my discomfort. “Based on the content of the manuscript, I doubt he’ll stand up and confess he wrote it. I can sense that he might tell the authority that he wrote it based on the things you told him. Or even better, that the story is your idea and he just typed.”

“Stephen King wrote a number of novels in first person’s point of view and how come no one persecuted him?” I asked.

“Because Stephen King’s first novel is narrated by multiple characters,” Ed responded, referring to _Carrie._ “By the time he wrote anything in one character’s first person POV, he is already an established horror writer. Plus, all his manuscripts are published as fiction. In your case, the story is written as a computer typed self-confession narration. Nowhere in the manuscript did it say ‘this is fiction, please do not call the police.’”

“Should I call Edward and ask him to talk to you?” I asked.

“You haven’t called him yet?” Ed raised an eyebrow. “Anne, if you are marrying the man, then he should be the first person you contacted if you’re in trouble.”

I had no idea how to respond to that.

“We better get to him now, or at least before Stanley,” Richard pointed out, then he turned to me, “Anne, do you recall if Edward could have anything attached to the manuscript with his name on it?”

I shrugged. “No, I have no idea.”

“Do you know where he lives?” Ed asked.

“Honestly, I have no clue,” that was my honest answer.

***

By the end of the day, I went back to my apartment. Everything was a mess. My body was so light that I could hardly move. Thinking of this whole thing over and over again, sometimes I wanted to laugh and sometimes I wanted to bang my head against the wall. Edward, my fiancé, wrote a story about killing someone in self-confession style. Mother got evicted and thrown out by Izzy and George. She went to my place and had nothing else to do so she decided to find something to read. Viola! There’s Edward’s manuscript. Only Mother did not know it’s a fiction novel. She panicked and called the police. I was arrested. And the prosecutor happened to be Daddy’s old enemy who wanted to use me as a source of vengeance.

Unfortunately, this was not reality TV.

The next morning, Richard called.

“Anne, I have some bad news for you,” he started.

“What is it?” I feared for the worst.

“Your fiancé, Edward, fled to England.”

I felt the whole world fell on me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is short and a follow up to the previous chapter.
> 
> And comments please!!!!


	8. The Trial

“Edward fled England.”

Hearing that, the whole world was dead on me. I was so stunned that I couldn’t even hear Richard’s voice from the other end.

“Anne? Anne?”

After a long while, I finally spoke out, “No, you got it wrong. Edward won’t do that to me. He…he can’t just leave without even a goodbye…”

“Anne—“

“No!” I found my voice and lashed out all my frustration. “You asked the wrong people! Who did you talk to? How would you know it’s true? No one can be that heartless!”

“Anne—“

“Find Margaret! That Bad Queen! That Bitch! She hid him away—“

“Anne!” Richard shouted. My heart skipped a beat and I stopped. “Anne, I am your attorney, and you really think I can get it wrong?”

I let out a deep breath and said nothing. _No._

“Had I found Edward,” he continued. “I would do anything to make him talk.”

“How did you find out?” I asked meekly.

“He told me.”

My heart went cold. “Edward told you?”

“Yes,” Richard replied, letting out a sigh himself. “I did a search and found where he lived. His butler told me that he is flying to England and I went straight to JFK to catch him. I saw him, Anne. He was already on the other side of the security gate. He shouted to me from the other side that he’s going to London. I swear Anne, if I could, I’d do anything to stop him.”

“So…what can we do now?”

“Are you at home?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

I felt much safer hearing him say that.

***

Sitting before Ed and Richard, wearing my engagement ring on my left hand, I felt so out of place. I wished the whole thing was a bad dream. Then Francis waltzed in with sandwiches and coffees. He placed a Starbuck iced latte and coconut cake before me.

“Here,” he smiled. “Richard told me that those are your favorites.”

Seeing that, I started to cry uncontrollably. In this world, nothing can be crueler than being betrayed by your own loved ones. I was betrayed by two—my mother and my fiancé. Because of those two, I could spend 25 years behind bars wearing orange. What life would become of me? This was not something that a sweet latte or a coconut cake can fix.

And I miss Daddy.

Never had I ever felt so abandoned and so unloved.

Richard looked at Ed and Francis; they took the cue and left Richard alone with me.

“Anne,” he handed me a tissue.

I took the tissue and wiped my eyes. Catching my breath, I asked, “Is Jackie here?”

“Who’s Jackie?”

“Ed’s mother-in-law.”

“What do you need her for?” Richard was surprised.

“Don’t you see,” I began to explain, laughing at myself. “How ridiculous things became? Too ridiculous to be true. And it means something, about a person, or…or the surrounding. We all know that Jackie is a witch and she probably cursed me. I don’t know what I did…but I don’t deserve this. Call her…get her here…tell her to make this stop…”

“Anne, stop this nonsense!” Richard took hold of me.

Choking on my sob, I whispered the most common phrase among the damsels in distress, “Make it go away.”

“I can’t,” he responded. It was the truth. With his hand on mine, he said to me, “I never liked Edward. Seeing you with the new looks and how he acted, I know that you won’t be happy with him. If a man truly loves you, then he loves you for who you are; not using you to fulfill a fantasy. That Edward is immature; he has no sense of responsibility. This is someone that can make George look like a saint. Even if you are not in trouble, how could he just take off to the other side of the world without telling you or even say goodbye? Going to London is not like going to a pharmacy down the street!”

I felt like a complete fool. Richard’s words were sharp and truthful, like a bunch of sharp-pointed swords that stripped me bare and revealed my stupidity.

“Anne,” he continued. “I am your lawyer, but I am not a magician. I cannot make this go away; it is happening and you need to face that. Pull yourself together. I promise you that I will do everything I can to win your case. But you must help yourself.”

“How?” I asked quietly. “I have no one. I am a powerless person with no connection. I have nowhere to go aside from my pathetic apartment. I can’t even talk to Izzy.”

“Be strong and believe in yourself,” Richard said quietly. “Remember, God only saves those who save themselves.”

He stopped for a second and looked at me in the eye. “And you have me, always.”

That left a stir in my heart.

“Take the first step, eat,” he ordered, pushing the coconut cake towards me.

I grabbed a fork and start eating.

***

The trial started.

I sat on one side with Richard and Ed; William Stanley was on the other side. He gave the York brothers a smile. I guess he really hated Daddy and now the vengeance was extended to the next generation.

The truth was William Stanley had everything to gain from this. If the jury voted me guilty, then he would see that his rival’s beloved daughter go to prison. If I were found innocent, I would still suffer certain degree of humiliation. Either way, Stanley would find something that makes him happy.

And he did manage to entertain himself and the court with his opening.

“Today, we are looking at a case where the conspiracy to commit murder defines itself. The First Amendment gives us the freedom of speech; however, it does not give us the right to kill, especially to kill a harmless family member. When Mrs. Anne Neville was at her daughter’s apartment, she was left alone and waited for her daughter to return. While waiting, she had absolutely no clue that a pair of murderous hands were awaiting. Luckily, she discovered her daughter’s gruesome plan,” he held up the manuscript, Edward’s manuscript, and started reading out loud. “ _I hate my mother. I hate my mother. I hate my mother…_ ”

Articulately, he emphasized the words “hate”, “kill”, and “blood”. Initially, I found it hilarious, especially with the words “I hate my mother”. Coming out of Edward’s mouth, it just sounded funny given how Margaret smothering him with all the attention and love. And yet, soon, a chill went down through my spine. Linked to what Richard told me about him using me to fulfill my fantasy, I couldn’t help but wonder if he would murder me once that fantasy was fulfilled.

“As ridiculous it sounds, ladies and gentleman of the jury, the law is the law. Under the law of United States and the State of New York, we have zero tolerance to any type of murderous conspiracy. Do not forget, the defendant is lucky enough that her mother discovered her plan before she can carry it out. Had she carried out the plan, she would be looking at the charge of murder in first degree. The penalty would be life in prison without parole.”

Finishing his opening statement, Richard swiftly stood up and spoke to the jury, “Ladies and gentleman of the jury, Mr. Stanley is right when he says that First Amendment does not give us the right to kill. However, what’s on trial is not the First Amendment itself. The question is that if my client is guilty of conspiracy without reasonable doubt. You will see that the state has absolutely no proof that my client is guilty…”

Richard continued on and I was fascinated with his speaking skills and charisma. That shy boy who never talked was long gone. The person before me, the man, was a tall, educated person who knew how to speak the right word at the right time. Daddy was right about him all along.

After Richard finished his statement, Stanley called his first witness, a forensic psychiatrist. His purpose was to demonstrate how writer of the manuscript being truthful and objective with the plan. The psychiatrist pointed out that with the pictures, graphs, and floor plans used, the plan is highly likely real. He even concluded that the writer behind the plan is likely a covert sadistic psychopath. Once Stanley finished with him, Richard questioned him. Amazingly, he managed to turn the table around with just two questions.

“Have you evaluated my client?”

“Do have any medical evidence or data that can point my client as the writer of the manuscript?”

The psychiatrist responded “no” to both question.

That was it.

Seeing Richard in action, I relaxed more. Finally, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

***

As the trial continued, I began to see that William Stanley’s real goal: to humiliate the Neville family. Throughout the whole ordeal, the hardest part was to see my family on the stand. Ironically, they provided the least useful testimony to the case. Yet at the same time, it was also the most amusing part. Izzy, George, Mother—all got subpoenaed. I was mad that Izzy was testifying against me, but Ed told me that it was not her choice. Once you got subpoenaed, you have to go. Pleading the Fifth Amendment only works if your testimony can incriminate you. So, under this circumstance, all three of my family members had to testify, whether they like it or not.

Izzy was the first one on the stand. She didn’t even look at me in the eye, which hurts.

“Mrs. York, the night when your sister was arrested, did you go out dinner with her?”

“Yes, I did,” she answered.

“Can you describe her appearance?”

“She looked different,” Izzy replied. “She dyed her hair blonde and wore more make-up.”

“Why does it surprise you?”

“Because she never liked make-over or materialistic things.”

“And how did you learned about her engagement?”

“Richard told me.”

“Did the defendant tell you anything about her engagement?”

“No, she avoided that topic.”

Then Stanley picked up the manuscript again and started to read, “ _As I am about to commit this gruesome murder, fear starts to overcome me. I don’t fear to kill, but I do fear to get caught. Life in prison is not something I want even for my worst enemy. But I am confident the police will never find me, for I have my escape long planned. Months before, I got engaged and my significant other is waiting for me in somewhere in England. I have yet told anyone about my marriage plan. I am smiling and giggling as I imagine the faces of my family when they discover my mother’s militated body. Never would they guess that by then, I will be living in a beautiful English castle with my soulmate…”_

He then looked at Izzy and asked, “Does this sound to you like what your sister was up to?”

“Well…”

“Objection!” Richard stood. “State of mind.”

“Sustained,” the Judge agreed with Richard.

“No more question,” Stanley was done with her.

Now it was Richard’s turn. “Growing up with your sister and knowing her all these years, do you believe that she is someone who can commit such a crime?”

“No,” Izzy answered, more confident this time. Some closure

After Izzy, George was called. Ed cross-examined him. It was through his testimony I learned the reason behind his no-show when I was held in contempt overnight. After Mother read the manuscript, she panicked and called George. George thought Mother was making an excuse to move back to his place. So he told her to “ _Call the police!_ ”. Only he did not know that it was _me_ Mother referred to as the “killer”. After Izzy tried to tell him about my arrest, George dismissed it as part of melodrama outburst resulted from pregnancy desperation.

“What would you tell her had she told you it was Anne who’s trying to kill her?” Ed asked.

“I would’ve said ‘call a psychiatrist’,” George replied.

Then came Mother. Seeing her, my hands started to shake out of anger. For the first time ever in my life, I wanted to jump out of my chair and shake her. Sensing my irritation, Richard took my hand and held it tightly. Of course, by then demonstrating any sort of violence and/or hatred against her wouldn’t help my case.

Taking the stand, Mother cried out her sorrows and frustrations since Daddy’s death. She got evicted; she had two ungrateful daughters; she begged George and Izzy to let her live with them; George was stingy and charged her for utility; Izzy blamed her for her infertility issues. With no one else to turn, she reached out to me.

“…When I saw Anne I was shocked by her new blonde look and I noticed the ring on her hand. But she was very eager for me to leave. As I sat in her small apartment, I had nothing to do. And then I saw that manuscript and I started to read. It scared the shit out of me, and then, suddenly it all made sense…I called my son-in-law and he told me to call the police. So that’s what I did…”

After Stanley was done with her, Richard cross-examined her.

“Mrs. Neville, did it ever cross your mind that the manuscript you read could be written by someone else?”

“It…no,” Mother stuttered.

“Your daughter is a Columbia graduate majored in English. So, do you believe that it is possible that someone else wrote it and simply asked her to edit it?”

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone would rely on her to do anything. She’s never competent.”

“But is it possible?”

“I guess.”

“Have you confronted my client about the manuscript?”

“No.” Mother answered after a moment of silence. “It won’t make a difference. All criminals deny their crime.”

Richard walked towards the clerk and read his manuscript, “’I can’t imagine anyone would rely on her to do anything. She’s never competent.’ Is this what you told the court under oath?”

“Yes.”

“Then how is it possible for an incompetent individual like your daughter to write such a meticulous planned perfect murder?” Richard stared at her in the eye.

The cat got Mother’s tongue. Go Richard!

***

After the trial was on recess, Richard and I went to dinner.

“We’re doing good, right?” I asked. I had good reason to believe that. We got good witnesses as well. The most helpful was my adviser from Columbia who testified that the manuscript does not fit my writing style and that the writer is British based on the grammar structure.

“We are,” Richard confirmed. “And you look better.”

I laughed. “It still hurts. Izzy didn’t even look at me in the eye.”

“All witnesses are instructed to not look at anyone aside from the attorneys.”

“I don’t get it. Why would Stanley waste his time on this case?”

Richard laughed. “District attorneys, they fought some cases because of grave injustice; some for their personal vengeance; and some for their amusement. Stanley had unfinished business with your dad and I think the judge is amused.”

Margaret crossed my mind. “Do you think Stanley planned this with The Bad Queen?”

“Who?”

“Edward’s mother,” I blushed. “She never liked me. I doubt that she’s happy that I’m marrying her son. Now it all worked out for her.”

Richard shook his head. “I disagree. I think Ed- _ward_ is having some sort of Freudian issues with his mother. He decided to let it out through writing, which is your specialty. He trusted you on this also because, and I assume, you already told him about your frustration with your mother. I don’t think Margaret and Stanley are together. It’s just crazy things fell in the right place.”

“Do you think I’m incompetent?” I asked, referring to Mother’s testimony.

“No, you are just a clumsy girl with some strange bad luck,” he teased. “But you need to learn to read people, Anne. Not everyone wears their true personality on their faces.”

“You’re certainly right about that,” I agreed. “I mean, look at that William Stanley. The night I got arrested, he was so nice. I answered his questions; I told him that I don’t live with my mother and all that…”

“Wait!” Richard stopped me. “He knows that your mom does not live with you?”

“He should.”

Richard closed his eyes for a while and then he stood. “I’m going to take you home, and then I will meet with Ed. The trial will be over tomorrow. We will win.”

Whatever was on his mind, I trust it.

Everything will be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Announcement: the rating will be changed in the next chapter.


	9. Gain and Loss

Richard dropped me off and walked me to my apartment. Before he left, he drew me closed and whispered, “Between now and the next day on trial, do not speak to anyone but me. And do not do anything like you did _that_ night.”

That night he meant the night I pulled a Lindsay Lohan. I nodded like an obedient child.

“If you need me, just text me,” he added.

I nodded again, and then Richard left.

***

What Richard had in mind at the time, he never told me. Maybe it was for the best. After all, I barely had any legal knowledge. I still have a hard time to distinguish Fourth Amendment from the Fifth. I guess that I just had to trust him.

Boy, it was like a test of trust. A man tied a woman to the bed; the woman is supposed to trust the man and accepts anything the man would do to her. Likewise, Richard tied me to a bed—

WTF?

What am I thinking? Richard was my lawyer, not my lover!

_Or is he?_

All these times, Richard was at my side, taking my arm, holding my hand, and whispering to my ear. I was not sure if I like that, but I was quite sure I would not want it to stop. Trial was almost over, if Richard’s words were true. What would life be after that? The only thing I knew was that I might have trouble letting Richard go.

On the next day of trial, it was a major showdown between Richard and Stanley. As Richard instructed, I spoke to no one. I sat there and watched as Richard cross-examined the police officer who worked Mother’s case.

“Officer, where did you obtain the evidence, the manuscript?” Richard asked.

“From the defendant’s apartment,” the officer answered. He was young, probably only a year or two older than me.

“Can you describe how you obtained the evidence?” Richard continued.

“We received a call from Mrs. Neville saying that her life is in danger. We went to the defendant’s apartment, and Mrs. Neville let us in. She then gave us the evidence.”

“She just handed it to you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you obtain a warrant?”

“Excuse me?” the office was a little dumbfounded.

“Did you obtain a warrant?” Richard asked again.

“No,” he answered honestly.

Richard turned to the Judge, “At this time, your honor, I like to request any evidence obtained from my client’s apartment to be suppressed.”

“Objection!” Stanley jumped up and shouted. “Sidebar your honor.”

“Mrs. Neville does not live with my client,” Richard continued, ignoring Stanley’s objection. “She has no right—“

 “Councilors, chambers!” the Judge ordered. Richard and Stanley followed the Judge while everyone else waited. They went in for a long time. Finally, when they reemerged, Richard walked towards me while Stanley sauntered to his side. Every line in his face spelled defeat. The Judge gave Stanley an unpleasant stare, and then he announced that he will declare his final judgment the tomorrow at 1 pm.

This would make the final judgment of my life declared on Friday the Thirteenth at 13 hours.

***

As we leaving of the courtroom, I felt relaxed. I had no clue what Richard’s reason was behind the “suppress of evidence”. But it hardly mattered.

“So I will see you tomorrow?” I asked. Maybe it would be the last time for a long while.

He nodded. “You be safe and look your best tomorrow.”

I paused for a second. “Why are you doing this for me? I have been nothing but rouble; you could’ve walked away. But you stayed by my side all along.”

Richard smiled. “Why’d you think?”

I made no reply. Quietly, blushing, I called a taxi.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

“Go prepare you closing!” I ordered. For the first time since the trial, I gave him an order.

“Yes ma’am,” he obeyed.

***

I did look my best the next day. I got rid of the blonde dye and resumed my original hair color. For the first time ever, I was never more satisfied with my looks.

Only one irritation—my engagement ring on my left hand. Seeing it made me sick to my stomach. Hatefully, I removed it and threw it in the medicine cabinet. 

As Richard anticipated, the Judge took his side. For about fifteen minutes, he preached the importance and holiness of the Fourth Amendment. Then he turned to Stanley, and condemned him.

“Mr. Stanley, you wasted my time and the time of American justice only for the purpose of your personal vendetta against the late Richard Neville. You should be ashamed of yourself. I will see you in contempt.”

“Your honor—!“ Before he could protest, the officer of the court approached him. He gave the Judge a glare.

“That will cost you $500 fine,” the Judge pounded his gavel. Then he turned to me, “You are free to go Miss Neville. Your father was an honorable man. I admit, I don’t like him; but I admire him. You should be proud to have a father like him.”

I felt moist in my eyes. “Thank you, your honor.”

“Come on,” Richard reached out his hand. I placed my hand in his and enjoyed his strength and warmth. As we reached the lobby, I saw Mother. With a guilty look, she looked at me imploringly. I wanted to slap her, but Richard, who stood behind me, stopped me in time.

“Don’t look at her, just walk,” he instructed. He was my legal counsel till the end.

“Do you want to go home?” Richard asked as we climbed into a taxi.

“No,” I replied.

“Do you want to head to my place?”

“Sure.”

I did not know why I said that; it just came out of me naturally.

***

It had been a while since I was at this place. The last time I was here, I was a complete drunk. But this time, I was sober. Looking around, I found his apartment huge and decent. It was a one bedroom apartment with an entertaining room; it was well organized. Compare to his place, my place was small and a bit messy. Well, I’m not a dirty girl, just careless.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked, removing his suit jacket and tie.

“No,” I shook my head. “You remember what happened last time.”

Richard laughed. “It’s okay to get drunk once a while, but make sure you are with the people you trust.”

Right, the last time I was alone.

I sat on his couch and looked down at my feet. “So, what’s going to happen next?”

“What’s what?”

“The case, is it officially over?”

“Yeah,” Richard said. “Double jeopardy – they cannot press the same charge twice.”

“So, does it mean I can plan to kill Mother for real and authority can’t do anything?” I joked.

“No, don’t even think of that,” he said and sat next to me. “That’ll be another case.”

“Can I have some wine?” I asked.

“You changed your mind,” Richard teased. He went to pour a glass of champagne for me and him. He raised the glass, “To celebrate our victory.”

I smiled in return and chunked all the champagne, which was a mistake. Soon, I began to feel lightheaded. Oops, I forgot to eat something.

Richard paid no attention. I looked at him, admiring his features. Dark hair, ivory skin, enchanting eyes—he was like a dark swan who was once an ugly duckling. George may be charming; Ed may be handsome; but Richard was something else. Not only he was good looking, he was a mystery. I can imagine him wearing a black cloak, riding on a white horse with a sword in his hand. A man with a mysterious background and full of adventures. That shy ghoulish boy was now a dark prince.

“What are you looking at?” he teased.

“You,” I said, feeling the effects of champagne. I leaned back and rested my head against the couch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

“I think I drank too fast,” I laughed. “I’m never good with alcohol. Maybe I need to ask you for some Advil again.”

“Don’t,” he warned. “Pills and alcohols don’t mix well together. Come here.”

He pulled me towards him and I laid my head on his lap. To my surprise, he was stroking my hair. I did not object, simply because I liked it. Resting my head on his lap, inhaling the scent of his cologne, I closed my eyes as his fingers went through my hair. His touch was full of control yet gentle.

This was the touch of a man, a protector.

A lover.

“Richard, how did we end up like this?” I asked suddenly. “You were once a boy who never talks; and I was this annoying girl. And today, you are this marvelous attorney of NYC. And I am being accused of murder conspiracy.”

Maybe alcohol was really kicking into my system.

Richard’s hand stiffened; his fingers stopped caressing. “Funny that you brought that up,” he said.

“Why did you take my case?” I repeated that question I asked him yesterday; my speech was slurring.

“Why’d you think?” he repeated the same response. His hand brushed my hair aside and started to message my neck. The touch of his hand on my skin was addictive at least.

“Do you love me Richard?” I asked him the million-dollar question.

I heard him chuckle. _Oh great, he is going to say no. I made a fool of myself, again._

“I do,” he replied.

“Since when?” I asked in disbelief.

“Well, as far as I can remember,” he reminisced, his fingers caressing my skin. “It was my sixteenth birthday and Ed bought me my first car, a white Mercedes. As I drove it around town for the first time, it was dawn; I decided it would be a better time since traffic wouldn’t be that bad. And then, bang. Something fell from the sky and smashed into my car. It was you, running out in your pajamas. Something hit me then; maybe god of love shot me in the heart. But you…you have being cruel. You keep on breaking my heart over and over again. At George’s wedding, you drew an ugly picture of me and wrote a poem…”

Oh yes, I remember of course. That was almost ten years ago. Richard the Hunchback on the napkin.

“I’m sorry about that,” I murmured. His caressing was no longer gentle.

“That picture got passed around at the party. You hurt me…but you saved me too. I had scoliosis, refused treatment, fearing the pain. After seeing that picture you drew, I decided to accept surgery and treatment. It was painful, but it was worth it. I grew almost one foot taller afterwards.”

“I’m really sorry,” I apologized again.

“I didn’t see you again until that night of your father’s funeral. You looked so broken, reminding me how I was when my dad died. I offered to walk you home, but you took me as a ghost.”

“Sorry.” That was all I could say.

“And then I saw you at the metro station, where you bumped into me and vomited all over my suit, which reminds me you still owe me $200.”

I laughed at that. “I apologized for that long ago.”

“I took you here, took care of you; but you slapped me.”

“I’m sorry.” _For the fifth time._

“And then I saw you on the plane with that bastard Edward. When I saw that ring on your hand, my heart was falling into pieces. When George told me that you’re in jail, I ordered him to hand over the case to me. I knew that Edward had something to do with it,” he let out a sigh and continued. “My dad once told me that if something truly belongs to you, then it will find its way back to you no matter what; if it comes back to you, don’t ever let go.”

“How much do I owe you now?” I asked.

“You are forever in debt,” he snarled, as his hand went deeper under my dress.  

In response, I made a bold move—I pushed myself up and pressed my lips against his. The kiss spoke of hunger, desperation, and love-seeking. To my satisfaction, he kissed me back. I closed my eyes and enjoyed him teasing me with his tongue. When his lips travelled from my jaws down to my neck, I felt a million butterflies set free in my stomach.

And I felt funny down there.

“Make love to me,” I whispered in his ear; it was semi-ordering and semi-beseeching.

Either way, he complied.

He lifted me in his arms and carried me to his bed.

I remember that bed and how comfortable it was.

And tonight he was going to join me.

***

He placed me gently on the bed, as if I were a priceless vulnerable treasure. He sat and removed my shoes, caressing my legs with his tongue. Instantly, my body was full with pleasure, so much that I could hardly lay still. I gasped as he pushed up my dress and licked my thighs. My body was hot, so hot that I wanted to get out of my clothes.

And that’s what Richard did next. He pulled me up against him with his hand snaked behind my back to unzip my dress. I caught his hair in between my hands and lowered my lips in his neck while he slipped the dress off. Longing to press my bare skin against his, my fingers unbuttoned his dress shirt. I never undressed a man before, but my fingers moved swiftly with rhythm, as if I were well-experienced. I moaned as he pulled down the strap of my bra and kissed my shoulder and collarbone. After he peeled off rest of my clothing, I was naked as I was born.

But I had no shame or shyness.

When both of us were completely out of our clothing, he held me tightly in his arms. We touched skin to skin. I gasped when his mouth lowered to my breasts, when his hand was teasing my G-spot. His touch was controlling yet full of love. His tongue was hot yet soft. I felt wet. I wanted him to be inside me.

And he did.

Rolling on top of me, he parted my legs with his knee. I wrapped my legs around him and enjoyed the pleasures of his caresses, his kisses, his licks—

Until a sharp pain interrupted.

There, done, I was his.

I cried out in pain and pleasure.

Richard stopped suddenly.

Did he know that I was a virgin? Apparently not.

Girls’ first time, as far as I know, is supposed to be awkward, clumsy, and uncomfortable due to emotional barriers, such as shyness of being naked, pain of losing virginity, and fear of pregnancy. My first time was nothing like that. When Richard made love to me, it was like me lying in a sea of pleasure with waves and rhythm guiding my each move. It went so smooth as if we were destined lovers who have embraced forever.

The pain was real, but my desire for Richard was not diminished. I wanted him even more.

I was disappointed when he rolled off and left the room. I wanted to tell him to stay, but I was too tired to speak.

I heard the sound of running water from the bathroom, then his footsteps.

He came back, with a warm towel. He caressed my thighs and wiped me clean. It was still sore, but my body was relaxed more than ever.

When he rejoined me in bed, I wrapped my arms around him as he pulled the comforter over us. I pressed my face against his chest, feeling his heart beat. He was holding me too. Was he satisfied with me? I certainly hope so.

As I was drifting off to sleep, I felt he moved my hair away to expose my nape and shoulder. He lowered his lips to my shoulder and started sucking my flesh. I closed my eyes and enjoyed every moment of it until I felt his teeth. He bit me, hard, on the back of my shoulder.

I grimaced.

_What was he doing?_

_Did he leave a mark?_

His actions reminded me of a Harlequin novel I read back in college: a warrior king saved a young maiden from the hands of Scottish warlords. They made love as the warrior king cleaned the maiden’s wounds. The warrior king took her maidenhead and left a bite mark on her body. _You’re mine, he declared. Nothing can take you away from me._

Feeling his fingers stroking the bite mark on me, for the first time ever, I realized how much he wanted me.

But did I love him?

That was something I didn’t know then.

In fact, I did not know the answer to that question until the very end.

I slept peacefully in his arms; it was the best sleep I had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I announced in the previous chapter, the rating in this story changed from this chapter and on.
> 
> Please leave comments. I really want to know what you think of this chapter.


	10. Richard vs. Edward

When I woke up, the day was never brighter and air was never fresher. I smiled, only was slightly disappointed when I found myself alone in the bed. Richard’s side was still warm; I wished he stayed.

I got up and got dressed. The _area_ was still sore, but it was therapeutic as well. All women had to go through this phase, sooner or later. I was quite satisfied that I lost it to Richard, not just some random stranger at a bar or to him, my ex-fiancé. The thought of him still made me sick.

As I walked out of his bedroom, I smelled something delicious. Richard was making breakfast. He smiled when he saw me.

“Morning,” he greeted me softly. “I didn’t want to wake you. I was preparing breakfast in bed for both of us, but I guess it is not going to happen.”

“We can still enjoy it here,” I pointed out. I hated to see him disappointed. “What did you make?”

“French toast, egg, ham, bacon,” he showed me.

“Where did you learned to cook?” I asked.

“Back in college. I used it as a good break from studying,” he winked at me. “And it saved money.”

“I ate in dining halls,” I said. “I can never cook for life.”

And that was how I gained my freshman fifteen.

We sat and ate; Richard was an excellent cook. My appetite was never this good, not since the day I was arrested.

“Was I too rough on you?” he asked.

I stopped eating. “No, I liked what you did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “But it was therapeutic as well.”

_And thanks for caring._

He took my hand and held it tightly. “You have no regret?”

“No,” I gently shook my head.

“So you think that we—“

“Richard,” I gently interrupted him. “Last night, I enjoyed everything you did. I never desired for someone as I for you. But…”

“But what?” His smile was gone instantly.

“But there are still things I have to take care of,” I explained. “Technically, I am still engaged to him. And I need to sort things out with Margaret. Either she fires me or I seek employment elsewhere. I can’t work with her anymore. The thought of me under the same roof with her or her son just make me want to throw myself in front of a truck. And if Mother still wants to move in with me, then I have to find another place where she can’t find me.”

“And how does that impact us?”

“What I’m trying to say is,” I paused for a second. “That I need some time to myself I figure these things out. You care for me, Richard, more than anyone else in this world. I caused you so much trouble, but your love me still. As for me, I never thought of you as a lover, at least not until last night. I want to be fair to you, Richard. I don’t just want to use you when I am at my weakest moment.”

“I don’t mind,” he insisted.

“But I do,” I told him honestly. “After what happened with Edward, I’m not so sure if I want to jump into a relationship with you just now. I need some time, alone.”

Reluctantly, he nodded in agreement. “Promise me one thing—don’t disappear from the face of earth.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

After we finished breakfast, he walked me out of his apartment complex as if I were to go on a trip to somewhere far away. As the taxi approached us, he folded me in his arm.

“You stay out of trouble, hear?”

“I will.”

“If you need me, text me.”

“I know.”

“And don’t do anything stupid.”

I knew what he was referring to. “Once I sort things out, I’ll find you.”

“When would that be?”

“Give me three months,” I suggested softly and stroked his cheek.

The taxi driver became impatient. “Are you lovebirds going to take the ride or what?”

Richard opened the door for me and paid the driver. I waved him goodbye and blew him a kiss. He watched as we drove away.

“Your man must really love you,” the taxi driver commented.

“He’s not my man,” I retorted. How I hate it when people define my relationship with guys for me!

“Oh really?” he laughed. “He is still watching. By his expression, that boy is completely in love with you.”

A part of me wanted to jump out of this taxi and ran back to him; another part of me wanted to head back to my place. This was torturing.

Before I knew it, I was crying.

***

Just as I anticipated, Mother was waiting for me at the lobby of my apartment building. I ignored her. When she approached me, I turned to the security guard and ordered him to bar her from this building. She could live in a shelter for all I care. What kind of mother would do what she did to her own flesh and blood? I might forgive her one day, but not now.

I went back to work the next day. Surprisingly, people greeted me warmly. Turns out Margaret was not there anymore.

Her successor was a Mr. William Hasting, who was also a friend of my advisor. Apparently, my advisor told him everything.

He called me to his office first thing in the morning.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Miss Neville,” he greeted me warmly. “I am sorry about what happened to you. Margaret’s son, well, is a piece of work. I can’t imagine if my son wrote something as such…” He went on and told me that Margaret fell ill two weeks ago. He didn’t like her, but he pitied her. He explained how Margaret’s in-laws looked down on her and treated her mean. Edward was her only child, but even he rejected her for her non-noble status. My feelings towards Margaret did not change much even after hearing this. Hadn’t she ever heard of the phrase “don’t stick around when people don’t treat you right”?

Mr. Hasting treated me kindly. He allowed me to keep the position that Margaret promised me. According to a co-worker, I became a celebrity at the La Mode Publisher after the “manuscript” incident. Everyone at La Mode Publisher hated Margaret. Not only I survived longer than three months by her side, I also got rid of her. A woman like Margaret was going to know the truth sooner or later. I assumed she fell ill once she learned about what her son had wrote in his unpublished book.

And speaking of Margaret, she asked me to come a see her. Long story short, I returned her the ring and promised her not to see her son again. We signed a contract on those agreements. I could’ve cared less.

Before I left her mansion, her caretaker gave me something—a bottle of silver dust.

“Madame d’Anjou would like you to have this,” she told me. “She found this in the white Mercedes she purchased for her son. She could not figure out what it is, as she could not figure you out.”

If I guessed correctly, it was the silver dust I got from Jackie Rivers long ago.

Fate must really have a plan.

***

While all these things were happening, I had not contacted anyone in the family or even Richard. It was one of those times when you really want to be left alone.

And I also had a good reason to be alone—I might be pregnant.

My menstrual were late and I couldn’t stop vomiting. It made sense if I were since I was not on birth control and I assumed Richard did not use a condom. One way to find out for sure was to take a pregnancy test.

Just I walked out of the pharmacy, I bumped into Izzy. By coincidence, she was here for the same reason—she might be pregnant too.

Of course, I did not tell her about my possible pregnancy; instead I told her that I was here for menstrual pads. Izzy was thrilled that she might be pregnant; she took my advice and went to another specialist, who debunked her once-a-blue-moon-pregnancy theory. I was happy for her.

Before I could bid her goodbye, Izzy grabbed my arm and said, “Annie, George and I are going to have dinner tonight with Ed, Liz and some of their partners from the firm; Richard will be there too. I think you should join us.”

“Izzy—“

“Come on Annie,” she pleaded. “We all miss having you around. Mother won’t be there, I promise. And it’s not going to be at Olive Garden.”

Seeing her genuine invite, I accepted.

***

Izzy and I went straight to dinner after Izzy used her pregnancy test. It came out positive; she was thrilled.

I read the instruction on the box myself and seeing that it was only 99.9% accurate, which means that it could still be 0.1% inaccurate. Of course, I was thinking of myself.

“When are you going to tell George?” I asked her.

“Tonight, when we are alone,” Izzy told me excitedly. “Promise me you are not going to say a thing at dinner.”

I promised and pinkie-swore. My unused pregnancy test was still in my purse.

We went to dinner; there I saw George, Richard, Francis, Ed, Liz, and Rob. George was not too happy to see me and he was not speaking to Richard. Izzy told me earlier that William Stanley got his license suspended for three years; Richard not only won my case but also defeated a veteran DA. In turn, he got promoted within the firm. For George, it was like Richard stole his shot. After all, it was Richard who asked him to hand over the case. To smooth things out between his brothers, Ed made George the firm’s business manager, which means that Liz’s brother Anthony Woodville had to step down.

The web of complication.

I took the seat next to Richard; he was happy to see me.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Okay,” I replied and gave him a smile.

For dinner, I ordered lobster and drank water instead of wine. It was Ed who spoke the most throughout the dinner; George chimed in once a while.

“Anne, you are awfully quiet tonight,” Ed remarked. “Didn’t Richard tell you as your legal counsel about double jeopardy?”

“He did,” I said.

“Smile, trial is over,” George said to me. “They can’t touch you anymore, unless you publish a book called ‘Kill Mom II’.”

Izzy playfully smacked him on the arm.

When the lobster arrived, I saw two lobsters in the large plate.

“Excuse me,” I tabbed the waiter. “I only asked for one lobster, not two.”

“I know ma’am, but this is a special circumstance,” the waiter explained. “These two lobsters are locked together by the claw. We tried, but those two refused to be separated.”

“They are dead, I assume,” I muttered.

“Yes, they are,” the waiter shrugged. “I guess they remained as mates even after death. And FYI, I think the female is pregnant.”

I nearly choked on my water after hearing that.

“I can use a lobster tonight,” Richard offered. We shared the lobsters, and Richard acted with much caring. I wondered if he told anyone in the firm about what happened between us. Certainly, his action spoke for itself. Richard was always so reserved, hardly interact with others unless he got into a conversation he cared about. The more he spoke to me, the more nervous I felt. How was I going to tell him that I was having his baby?

“Anne?” A voice spoke behind me. By the tone and the accent, I guess it was Edward Lancaster. And I was right.

“When did you get back?” I asked coldly.

“Yesterday,” he replied. “I have come to get you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have come to take you to London.”

Sometimes, people’s imagination can be so unreasonable. “That’s not going to happen, Edward. You abandoned me and our engagement is over. I returned the ring back to your mother and I have agreed to not to see you. If you like, I can show you the contract.”

All this time, I did not even turn. He was standing behind me talking while I was sitting facing the front.

“Anne, it’s kind of hard to talk to you if your back is to me,” he said.

“Why do you think that I want to talk to you?” I retorted. “Please leave, you are making me uncomfortable.”

“Can we talk about nice things?” he asked. “I like your top Anne. Is it wool?”

How worse could it get?

“Look, I know what happened to you is horrible,” he explained. “But you cannot blame me. You should blame the United States government. How could they arrest you based on a fictional manuscript? Come to London with me, we will live happily in our castle. And we don’t have death penalty in England, unlike here.”

“Wrong!” Ed pointed out. “New York State abolished death penalty back in 2008.”

“Oh you stay out of this!” Edward snorted.

Richard stood. “If you are smart, then you should leave quietly. She already told you that she does not want to talk to you. Leave her alone, or—“

“Or what Dickon? You are going to sue me?”

“My name is _Richard_ ,” he emphasized.

“Oh okay,” Edward changed his tune. “You and me, outside now.”

“You are an idiot to confront me like that in front of my family and my partners,” Richard pointed at him. “Believe me, you do not want to mess up with me, Ted.”

That did it. Edward threw a punch at Richard, but Richard caught him. Neither one of them was a trained fighter; the two fought like puppies. Everyone else at the restaurant was rather amused. The head waiter ran to the back and shouted “Fight!”. Then rest of restaurant staff ran out to watch as Richard and Edward somehow managed to got out of the restaurant, fighting.

And everyone else followed them outside.

I was angry that no one broke them up. I turned to Ed, “Do something! Before there’s a lawsuit.”

Francis and George acted like cheerleaders, cheering for Richard. Izzy pulled me aside, “What are you doing Anne? These men are fighting for you!”

“They are not fighting for me!”

Finally, Ed saw enough and broke those two up. “Knock it off, both of you!” he scolded.  

Both of them looked like a mess.

“Fine, you won this round Dickon,” Edward snarled at him. “But this is not the end!”

“It’s _Richard_!” Richard punched him right in the face and Edward fell. “ _Ted_!”

Calmly, I walked to Edward as he was lying on the ground. “I am not going back together with you, Edward. I don’t care about your title, even if you are Duke of Westminster. You left me when I needed you. Have you even paid your mother a visit yet? She is sick, and she needs you. Honestly, you owe her an explanation about your novel.”

I turned away from him, and then I added, “By the way, your writing is crap.”

That was the last thing I ever said to him.

***

That night did not end there. After I got home, the first thing I did was pee. The result of the pregnancy test was negative. I was relieved.

Then I found the bottle of silver dust in my purse. I remembered what Jackie Rivers instructed in years ago, “Spread the dust in the air by dawn…you will find your answer.”

It was still night.

I tried to sleep but couldn’t.

When I opened my eyes, it was 5 AM, and it was dawn.

I took the bottle of silver dust and climbed to the roof top. As I prepare to open the bottle, it slipped out of my hand again.

“Ouch!”

Oh my god! I ran down to check if someone is really hurt.

Before me stood Richard, rubbing his head and holding that bottle of silver dust in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a quick follow up chapter because I am a little obsessed with the story.
> 
> Comments please!


	11. Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

A little recap: that bottle of silver dust from Mrs. Jackie Rivers somehow found its way back to me. When I was thirteen, I tried to spread the silver dust in the air at dawn. Yet, the bottle fell out of my hand and landed on a White Mercedes, which belonged to Richard York. I assumed Ed York pocketed it, but I was wrong. The silver dusts were probably left in the car the whole time, until the White Mercedes was bought by Margaret d’Anjou, who gave it to her son Edward Lancaster. That bottle of silver dust, however, sat on the desk of Margaret aka the Bad Queen aka the most pitiful mother. After I cleaned up the mess with Margaret, she gave the bottle of silver dust to me.

Now, at age 25, I made the same attempt I did twelve years ago. History repeated itself; the bottle fell out of my hands again.

And it landed on Richard, again.

Does that mean anything?

Mrs. Rivers told me, “Your husband is very close…you will hurt him…and he will hurt you…”

Richard and I, we had a history with a full list of strange things and adventures where we hurt one another, intended and unintended. Well, I hurt him more than he hurt me.

To make a list:

  * How Richard hurt me: threw me out of his house, took my virginity (2)



 

  * How I hurt Richard: damaged his first new car, hurt his dignity with that picture and poem, ruined his new Aranmi suit, slapped him on the face, rejected his love, and now, threw something on his head (6)



What the heck? Everything spelled out for itself.

What happened next? What do you think?

I ran to Richard, threw myself at him. I kissed him passionately, and he kissed me back. The world may be watching, but we could’ve cared less.

We held each other tightly, never to be separated again.

We made love; two weeks later Richard proposed.

We got married.

We now live in a decent apartment, with a dog, and two kids.

***

Are you kidding me?

Sorry folks, I lied.

Come on, the stuff I mentioned above is what could’ve been in a romantic film where the director/writer wanted to wrap things up since the film is not going to be longer than 90 minutes.

This is real life.

Unfortunately, I did not throw myself at Richard.

Richard loves me; that is a fact. But, before Edward Lancaster and Richard, I never had a serious boyfriend. As a person, I am very independent. For instance, at the restaurant, Richard was cutting my lobster for me. It was sweet, but I preferred to cut the lobster myself. On top of that, I hate and fear of the idea of being too dependent on someone. Watching Mother and Izzy, I shuddered at the image of me being too dependent on someone and then ended up being nothing without that someone.

Bottom line, I was just not used for man to love me that much.

“What are you doing here, Richard?” I asked. It was 5 AM in the morning.

“I have a case I need to prepare. Why are you up so early?” He asked back.

I sighed. “I can’t sleep. By the way, can I have it back?”

“This thing?” Richard referred to the bottle of silver dust. “What are you doing with this?”

“That’s none of your business! Now give it!” I tried to take it from his hand.

But Richard was quicker and taller. “Finderkeeper!” He smirked and held it high in the air, out of my grasp.

“Give it or I will call the police!”

“Good luck with that! I’m sure NYPD would love to spend their time to retrieve a dollar-store item.”

“It’s not a dollar store item! It’s worth one week’s kitchen sweeping and cleaning!”

“Oh,” He raised an eyebrow. “You want it, you have to come a retrieve it.”

With that said, he jumped into a cab and drove away.

Unbelievable!

How could at 28 year-old lawyer be so immature!

***

And I did go to his place to retrieve it.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see me.

“Anne, what a surprise!” He greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for—“ Before I could finish, I saw another gal at his apartment. She was tall, blonde, and very attractive.

I lost my smile.

“Anne, this is Mary Burgundy,” he introduced. “Mary, this is my friend Anne.”

_My friend Anne!_

Without a word, I took a seat as if I were the mistress of the house. “So Mary, what do you do?”

“I am a paralegal,” she said. “Richard is my mentor and I am preparing for my bar exam.”

“Wow,” that was all I managed to say.

“What do you do Anne?” she asked.

“I am an editor for La Mode Publisher,” I told her.

“Oh really? I love La Mode magazine!”

The conversation went on. For some reason, I really didn’t want this Mary Burgundy around.

“What type of lawyer do you want to be? A criminal lawyer? Estate? Or divorce?”

“I don’t know yet, but Richard thinks I have great potential in criminal law,” she gave Richard a nice smile, to my discomfort. “So, how long you and Richard know each other?”

“We know each other for _years_ ,” I answered. “Richard is more than just a friend…”

“I am her attorney as well,” Richard finished my phrase.

This twosome conversation had become a threesome.

This Mary Burgundy was quite a talker. By the time she left, it was almost 10:00 PM.

After she left, I gave Richard a look of contempt as if he betrayed me.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“What was what?”

“You barged in here, challenging Mary for no reason at all.”

“I was not challenging her,” I denied.

“Yes you were,” Richard emphasized. “The moment when you jumped into that chair, you are establishing yourself as a competitor who snatched one point ahead.”

“That is not true!”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not!” Then I changed the subject. “You know what? I am not going to argue with you, because I know that you, Richard York, win arguments. I don’t want to get lawyered. I am here tonight for my silver dusts!”

“What silver dusts?” He asked. “Oh that. I can’t believe you as an adult are still into that childish stuff.”

“It is not childish!”

“Oh really, tell me then Miss Neville, what do you need it for?”

“Mrs. Rivers told me that the silver dusts will reveal the answer I have been seeking since I was a kid,” I looked away, folding my arms.

“Use magic to seek answers instead of science and reasons, very mature,” he teased.

“Look, Richard, just give me my stuff and I’ll be going.”

“Fine, you can have it back,” He gave in. “But you have to find it yourself.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you want it that bad, you got to find it; it’s somewhere in this apartment.”

I looked at him and then realized he was up to something. Two can play this game.

I gave him a seductive smile and moved closer as if I was going to kiss him. Then suddenly, my hand reached into his pocket and pulled it out.

“Found it!” I laughed out loud.

“Do you want to be put away for pocket picking?”

“You gave me permission. If I were guilty, you’d be guilty as accessory.”

“Anne, don’t challenge me in law.”

“Oh you don’t think I’m smart enough to talk about anything legal. I am certain that Mary Burgundy kept you so entertained!”

“Are you jealous?” He was amused.

“No,” I denied, not too convincingly. “I don’t like her. She is so fake, so material.”

After a moment of silence, I got up. “You know what? This thing,” I held up that silver dust. “It was something I use to see who I’d end up with. Strangely, I never had a chance to use it. The first time, it fell out of my hand and hit your car. And this morning, it fell out of my hand again and landed on you. I don’t know if magic exists in this world. But…what I do know is that somehow I always bumped into you and…”

“And…” He moved closer to me.

“And this thing is not making me think straight,” I admitted. “I am not a little girl anymore, Richard. I’ve grown up, or I should after what happened with Edward. I want be with someone whom I love and trust, and more importantly, someone who I want to care. I need to figure this out myself, without influence from you, or from anyone else, or from this thing.”

I opened the bottle and spilled the dust into his kitchen sink. I turned on the water to make sure those dusts went down the drainage.

“Good night Richard,” I said to him softly and left.

***

Next morning, I got a call from Francis, who was in deep panic.

“Anne, you need to come here quickly!”

“Francis?” I was still sleepy. “What’s wrong? To where?”

“It’s Richard!”

“What about Richard?” I got worried immediately.

“You got to come see yourself!”

“Are you at the firm or at his place?”

“I’m at his place.”

“I’ll be there quickly as I can.” Without a hesitation, I got dressed and called a cab and went straight to Richard’s place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter! Hope you like it.
> 
> Comments please!


	12. And Somehow...

I jumped out of the cab and ran straight to Richard’s place. By Francis’ tone, I thought Richard got hurt or perhaps even worse.

When I got there, my mouth gaped open and I could not believe what I saw.

Richard sat Indian-like in his couch. His eyes became death glares when he saw me, and he had a good reason.

His entire apartment was flooded.

“Richard—“ Before I could approach him, Francis grabbed me.

“Anne, don’t,” he warned.

“What happened?” I demanded. “And why are you guys looking at me like this?”

“The plumber and the apartment manager explained that some unknown substances clotted within the drainage and one thing led to another, the pipe fractured,” Francis told me.

Immediately, I knew—the silver dusts I poured down the drainage.

Oh my mother-freaking God!

Who could’ve guessed that Mrs. River’s powders can be that powerful?

His car, his dignity, his suit, his face, his heart, and now his apartment!

“Richard,” I walked to him, stepping through the water. “Richard, I…I am so, sorry…”

Silent.

“Richard, say something!” I begged. “You can yell, say anything nasty….”

He only rolled his eyes.

I turned to Francis. “What are we going to do now?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Well, we cannot reverse what happened. I am sure that the apartment manager can fix this. But where can Richard go? He cannot stay here!”

“Several options: he can lodge at my place,” Francis paused. “Or he can stay with Ed, or he can spend nights at the firm—“

“No!” I shouted. The thought of Daddy spending his last night at the firm still freaks me out.

And neither could Richard live with Ed since Ed and Liz and their kids can be too much to bear. Izzy and George were having a baby. As for Francis, I didn’t think it was fair that that Richard living with him since the whole thing was my fault.

“Here’s the plan,” I said. “I will take a day off from work today, and I’ll make some arrangements. Richard will stay at my place until they fix this place up.”

Before Francis could object, I stopped him. “That’s final.”

I turned to Richard, “Richard, get your stuff together.”

***

I felt really bad about this. So bad that I did several things I never thought I would’ve done: I moved my stuff out of my closet to make room for Richard’s suits; I had new linens and comforters bought so that Richard could sleep in my bed while I moved to sleep in the IKEA fold-in couch; I moved the TV screen to the bedroom so that he could watch news or any late night shows before sleeping. On top of that, I prepared new toothbrush, mouthwash, dental floss, shaving cream, razor, and a brand new towel set. Long story short, I turned my small one-bedroom apartment into a hotel suite as the best I could.

After I got it all done, it was almost 5 PM. I went to Richard’s office to pick him up. He still looked pissed, justified. I tried to cheer him up as much as I could.

I gave him a tour when he got to my place; I was like Martha Stewart.

Finally, he talked.

“Your place looks fine,” He gave me a nod. “I guess I can survive for a couple of weeks before they fix my apartment.”

That brought me a sigh of relief.

As I sat on the couch, Richard ventured to my kitchen. “Your frige is empty.”

“I know.”

“How are you going to eat?”

“Haven’t you heard of take out?” I grabbed my phone. “What would you like tonight? Chinese? Pizza? Or sub?”

“Chinese is fine.”

That was the first night Richard lived at my place.

Things went more smoothly than I anticipated. Richard seemed to forgive me overnight.   

***

Richard and I were both working. We got up in early mornings to get ready; grabbed breakfast at Starbucks; went to work by metro or taxi; got home at around 5 or 6 PM; sometimes we both work late. I did have a spare key to my apartment, but I wasn’t comfortable to hand it to Richard. That would be like we were living together like a couple, which we weren’t. We were more like college roommates.

Living with Richard brought me a lot of joy I never had before. Izzy and I hardly had anything in common; my college roommates and I hardly talked. But Richard was something else. On workdays, we set the alarm at 5 AM. If one of us wasn’t awake, the one who got up would wake the sleeping one. My strategy was to hit him in the face with a pillow; his strategy was to spray water in my face. Bathroom was an issue from time to time. Richard only needed 10 minutes at max; but I needed 30 at minimum. The one thing Richard could never understand was eye make-up.

“How could you spend nearly an hour on something that small?” He would ask.

After the morning toilette, we went to work together; me with my latte and him with his coffee. After work ended, we would go out to eat because neither one of us wanted to cook since we were so exhausted. At dinner, we swapped stories about people and how stupid they could be. We had good laughs.

Once we hit home, we went to our computers. Sometimes I worked on my manuscripts and Richard reviewed his cases. Since I moved the TV screen to (Richard’s) bedroom, I watched Access Hollywood online while Richard enjoyed his evening news and soccer games. I only watched news with Richard once and soon after we embarked on an argument which lasted three hours. Both of us had strong point of view on sensitive topics. I was so angry that I stormed out of my room and slammed the door. I locked myself in the bathroom and had my revenge when he needed to pee. In time we put it behind us; but I would not try to watch the news with him again.

The best time I had with Richard was in the kitchen. One day I came home from work, Richard was in the kitchen and chopping. I opened the refrigerator to grab a drink, and found it full of grocery.

“I see you got grocery,” I remarked.

“Yes, ma’am,” He winked. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because I am going to teach you how to cook.” He gave me a charming smile.

“Why?” I whined. “I cannot cook for life.”

“Come on, cooking can be fun,” he pulled me over against my will. Under his instruction, I learned to make one thing or two. Don’t ask me for details—I'm still retarded when it comes to cooking. And yet, Richard made it a fun activity. One day we got into a food war. He threw flours at me and I retaliated by squirming chocolate syrup on him. 

Richard’s job was not an easy one. He had difficult clients; George was still a black sheep and a pain in the butt; and Liz micro-managed the firm. I remember once, Richard got three texts from George, asking if Richard could be his back-up for a civil case. Richard told him no, because he got another case. George’s exact words were: please be my backup just in case I got sick, but I am not going to be sick.

Then why did he need a back up?

Later Richard told me that George overslept and was late for court. Liz berated him and he excused himself by telling her that he was sick. So Liz insisted that he must have a backup—she reminded him by sending him 5 emails, 4 texts, and 3 phone calls.

Let’s just say that Richard had a lot to put up with, which makes me appreciate my job even more.

I loved living with Richard.

That was the truth.

He hardly talked to me about the status of his apartment, which made me nervous from time to time. I feared that he would walk in one day and tell me that his apartment is all finished and he’s moving out.

I would really like him to stay.

***

Rest of the story was kind of interesting and odd so bear with me.

I went to his apartment complex to see how it went; my intent was to prepare myself if Richard were to announce that he’s moving back to his place. At the apartment manager’s office, I ran into the maintenance guy.

“Hi,” I greeted him.

“Oh hi,” He greeted back; he was a 6 foot 1 Latino.

“You look exhausted,” I remarked.

“Oh of course,” he shook his head. “Trying to clean up and fix that flooded apartment on floor six.”

Richard lived on the sixth floor.

He continued. “The pipe gotten so old that it cracked under pressure and cold temperature—“

“Wait, what?” I was surprised. “The apartment flooded because of something got clotted within the drainage of the sink.”

He looked at me as if I got three heads. “Honey, do you think that it’s even possible that clotted drainage can cause a flood this damaging?”

I was totally speechless.

“The guy who’s living in that apartment, Richard, does he know?”

“Yeah of course!” He laughed. “After we investigated the cause and we went over the details with him. He even signed the investigation report.”

“Do you happen to have a copy that report?”

***

When Richard came back, it was me who gave him the glare of death this time.

I sat there, staring at him without blinking, holding a copy of the investigation report.

“Anne?” He was surprised. “Are you okay?”

“Do you know what this is?” I shoved the investigation report into his face. “It has your name on it!”

Richard took it from me and said nothing. I could tell he was trying to hold back his grin and laugh, which made me more pissed than ever.

“Your apartment flooded because that the pipe cracked under pressure and temperature. Where did this ‘some unknown substance got clotted in the drainage…and one thing led to another’ came from?” I demanded. “And if you dare to laugh…”

It only made him laugh harder. “Look, Anne. I never expected things to end up like this.”

“Then what did you exactly expect?”

“It was only meant to be a joke,” he explained, not too apologetically. “I thought you would freak out a first but laugh it off. I never anticipated that you’d buy it. Before I knew it, you made all these arrangements. How can I refuse these generous offer made from your good heart?”

“Generous offer?” My eyes narrowed. “Do you know what I went through? I took a whole day off from work, stood for hours in the convenient store to get you the exact brand of toothpaste you preferred. I went to Macy’s and spent $200 on a bed set because I know how much you hate Walmart! I worked so hard to move that television set into the bedroom so that you can watch TV in bed while I sat by the kitchen table watching Mario Lopez on my computer! Why do you think I did all this? Just out of my generosity? I am not Saint Anne!”

Richard stopped laughing. “I am sorry.”

In response, I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

“I mean it!” He insisted.

I threw a book at him.

“I hate you!” I cried, throwing an orange at him.

“No you don’t!” He caught the orange.

“Yes, I do!” Running out of weapons, I threw my fists at him. “You made me feel like a fool! I was living in one of the happiest moments in my life before I found out the truth. For once, I was happy to wake up in the morning. For once, I was happy to come home! For once, I was happy to be in the kitchen and being told what to do. I should’ve known all these are too good to be true! I hate you! I hate you! I hate—“

And he stopped me with a hard kiss on the lips.

“How dare you kiss me!” I said angrily. In response, I kissed him back.

“I want you out of here, now!” I demanded and then I kissed him again.

“I never want to see your face again!” Followed by another kiss.

“You are the biggest jerkass in the world!” Then another kiss.

“I just want to tear you into pieces…stab you with a sword…hit you in the head with a steel ball…and then bury you under a parking lot so you won’t be found for 500 years!”

With that said, I threw myself in his arms and kissed him all over.

My body was full of heat, either of passion or of anger. I kicked my shoes off and Richard took the cue.

He carried me to my bedroom (or his bedroom) and we have love.

And this time, I was on top.

***

After the heat of passion was over, I laid comfortably in his arms, drawing circles on his bare shoulder. His arm was around me protectively; he caressed my forehead with his lips. When I traced my fingers to his neck, something hit me. I gave him a devilish smile.

“What are you up to now, you little tigress?” He teased.

I made no response. Suddenly, I pressed my lips into his neck and then bit him, hard.

“Gentle dear,” he moaned.

“There,” I grinned. “Now you are officially mine.”

“Just as you’re mine,” he said gently. I rested my head against his chest and listened to his heart beat. “Oh Anne, what am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever you like,” I purred.

He rolled on top of me. “Open up.”

Then it was another series of pleasure.

We spent five hours in bed making love. I enjoyed every second of it.

***

We were both exhausted in the end, but the night was still young.

“They are going to clean up my apartment soon,” he muttered. “My lease is not up until the end of this month.”

“What’s on your mind?” I asked.

“Well, we have lived together here for more than a couple of weeks,” he sank into his thoughts. “I think maybe we can move in together.”

“What?” I sat up.

“Come on Anne,” He traced my arm with his finger. “You said it yourself. You are happy to come home and you are happy to wake up because I am here. I want you to be happy.”

I lied back down on top of him. “Richard, even if I want to, where are we going to live? Get another apartment in your building? Or find another one somewhere else?”

“We’ll see. But first, would you like to?”

“I do,” I replied honestly. “I think maybe we can start with a two-bedroom apartment. One bedroom for me and one bedroom for you.”

“Why do we need two bedrooms?”

“Because just in case if we got into an intense argument and I need to be alone. Or when I have my menstrual…”

Richard made a face. “You know, I like it when you get mad. And I love it when we argue.”

“Because we get to make up,” I read his mind. “So two bedrooms and two bathrooms?”

***

We went house-hunting. Things were not as easy as I thought.

When I was looking for an apartment by myself, all I cared about was the rent and distance from work. Now with Richard, there were more things to consider. Richard preferred an apartment on a higher level because he believed that live higher means success; I wanted a two-bedroom apartment with bedroom window facing the sun; he wanted a bigger kitchen; and I needed a bigger bathroom. Needless to say, we ended up bickering at the apartment complex’s office. 

And we made up until the manager walked in on us.

But in the end, we made our choice. We moved in together in a two-bedroom apartment on the seventh floor; the location was somewhere between La Mode Publisher and his law firm.

So, somehow we ended up living together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end folks.
> 
> Remember the title--you'd know when it's the last chapter. 
> 
> Comments please!


	13. ...And then everybody finds out

When you began a relationship or even further, moved in with someone, the first thing you’d do is tell you family and friends and receive congrats. You and your significant other go everywhere together—family barbecue, birthday parties, or company’s banquet. If you run into someone you know, you say hi and that person would say hi back to both of you. After you celebrate your one year’s anniversary, people would start asking you when’s the big day.

Richard and I were now living together as a couple. The alarm clock was set at 4:30 AM instead of 5:00 AM because we want to make love in the morning. If Richard was still sleeping, I would wake him with a kiss. If I was still sleeping, Richard would wake me by nuzzling my neck. Finally, we got out of the bed, got dressed, got ready for work, and bid each other goodbye with a kiss. We both took metro, but in different direction. While riding the metro, Richard and I would text each other, and sometimes, sexting. His jokes often made my day the brightest.

After work, we grabbed dinner, came home, and watched movie. If one of us were to work late, then the other one would be responsible for putting on a romantic scene at home. Once, for instance, when Richard worked late, I spread rose petals in the bath tub, lit the candles, and dressed up as Greek Goddess Aphrodite. If you knew Greek mythology, then you should know what Aphrodite wears. I cannot say how much Richard loved it, but I can tell you that we did not leave the bathroom until the next day noon.

We were happy together.

We were lucky.

And we had yet told anyone in the family.

It was kind of a tacit agreement between us that we keep our relationship a secret. It was not completely unreasonable. First, I safely assumed that Richard’s firm had a policy regarding the _liaison_ between the attorneys and the clients. Richard and I had sex the night after I was off the light; so technically, it wouldn’t be against the policy (if there was one). But still, people, especially George and Liz, would start talking. Second, I feared the reaction from our family. Richard and I were the first ones in our family to move in with someone without marrying. Ed and Liz had a whirlwind relationship, but they were married before living together. Izzy and George married after four years of dating; but they did not live together until marriage. Even Aunt CiCi, who got pregnant with Ed at age 20, did not move in with Uncle Richard until tying the knot. And traditionally speaking, a couple should meet, fall in love, get married, move in together, endure ups and downs, and live happily ever after.

Our relationship was sort of the opposite: we endured ups and downs (many downs), moved in together, and maybe falling in love. By then, I knew Richard loved me; but I still wasn’t sure if I was in love with Richard.

We never talked about it. Yet, in everything we do, we tried to avoid to run in to people we know, such as Izzy, George, Ed, Liz, Francis, Rob, etc.

And it wasn’t easy. Sometimes, it was awkward.

And it upset me, once.

It was on a sunny Saturday, Richard and I went to a pet store. The night before we were watching the movie “Marley and Me”, and I mentioned how much I wanted a dog. Daddy would’ve gotten me one, but Mother was allergic to them. Richard told me that he liked dogs too. So, on that Saturday, we decided to get a dog.

And it just so happened that Ed came too with his three girls, Bess, Cecee, and May. Before they saw me, I ran to Barnes and Noble. I texted Richard to let me know when Ed and his girls left so I can rejoin him. While waiting, I picked up a magazine to read. Minutes became hours. Before I knew it, I was half way through Victor Hugo’s _Les Miserables_. Finally, when Richard came to get me, the store was closing so we didn’t get a dog.

Turned out that Ed’s three girls really wanted a pet, but they couldn’t agree on whether it’s dog, cat, bird, fish, or even snake. And the most annoying of them was Bess, Ed and Liz’s oldest daughter. She insisted that “Uncle Richard” should stay and help them decide. That girl was too spoiled and/or too annoying. The last thing I wanted in this world is Liz and Ed to die; or else, Bess might need to live with us.

We went home without a word.

***

Although we didn’t tell anyone about our relationship, but our body languages were obvious. I guessed everyone must have figured it out at some point, only no one confronted us.

Until one day.

Richard and I were invited to Ed’s house to celebrate Ed’s birthday. This was the first family event that we attended since living together. We decided (or rather I decided) that we should go separately. Once there, we tried to keep a distance between us. Richard was playing with Bess; and I was hanging out with Izzy. My sister was six month pregnant now; her belly was getting bigger and bigger. I asked if the baby was boy or girl. Izzy told me that she doesn’t know. I felt bad for her; everyone knew how much George wanted a boy. So much Izzy feared to find out baby’s sex, like a criminal suspect feared to find out jury’s decision. I hoped that Richard wouldn’t do that to me.

“Excuse me Izzy, I need to use the bathroom,” with that said, and I walked into Ed’s house and gave Richard a look. He immediately got the message and excused himself too. I sat by the bathtub for about five minutes before hearing a knock. My phone rang; Richard texted “open; it’s me”.

And I did.

Shutting the door behind us, we kissed like we haven’t seen each other for centuries. I closed my eyes and enjoyed his kiss, his touch, and his squeeze. We made out and fooled around. We enjoyed the moment so much that we didn’t know we were in there for almost an hour. By the time we finally separated to take a break, Izzy texted me ten times asking me where I was. Looking at the time, I only giggled.

Lying back against Richard, I commented, “My hair is a mess, isn’t it?”

“You always look beautiful,” Richard kissed my forehead.

“No, I mean others would notice, would they?”

“They might.”

I looked at Richard and pointed at the lipstick marks on his face and neck, “Look at you.”

I took a piece of toilet paper and wiped his face clean. He thanked me with a kiss.

How I wanted to remain in his arms and enjoy life!

But we couldn’t, because it wasn’t even our house!

And someone was knocking the door saying that she needs to use the bathroom. It was Bess.

I disliked that girl even more!

“Just a minute!” I yelled and gestured Richard to be quiet. I got up and fixed my dress and my hair. I completely missed the hickeys on my shoulder.

“But I really need to go!” She whined.

“Bess, honey, can you use another bathroom? I am having troubles here!”

“What kind of trouble?” Bess asked, to my frustration.

“A trouble you won’t get in years,” I said, trying to sound truthful.

“In how many years?” Bess continued to ask.

“Maybe five to ten.”

“Would I die because of it?” This was becoming unbelievable.

“No.” I wanted to say _yes_.

“Do you need me to call 911?”

“No, I can take care myself.” I looked back at Richard, he only grinned.

“Are you in there with someone?” Bess asked.

“No!” I shouted.

“Can I come in to see your trouble?”

“No, you can’t,” I insisted, face red. “Bess, please use another bathroom. I will be out shortly.”

“Okay,” she agreed meekly; and I sensed it wouldn’t be the end of it. “Can I tell mom about you having trouble?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I am an adult and I can take care my own troubles,” I explained. “Bess, honey, do me a favor please. Go outside and eat something. I will tell you all about it, I promise you.”

“Hmm…okay,” hearing her footsteps and the door shut, finally I relaxed.

Richard let out his laugh; and I had to agree, it was funny in a certain way.

***

We managed to sneak out of the house and rejoined our family.

“Aunt Annie, what’s on your shoulder?” Bess was standing behind me and pointed.

I felt like Nicky Minaj having her top burst open on stage. “It’s a mosquito bite,” I tried to keep a straight face.

“But mosquito bite is much smaller,” she commented. “Was this your trouble?”

“Bess,” I tried to keep my smile. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you to keep things to yourself?”

“Dad taught me to tell the truth and point things out when it’s wrong,” she said.

I rolled my eyes, “Nothing is wrong here.”

But everyone knew something was up, because everyone aside from Richard was looking at me.

And then George shouted out loud.

“RICHARD AND ANNE ARE LIVING TOGETHER!”

I jumped out of my seat.

There was no point of denying; my reaction spoke everything.

Secret was out.

“This is not acceptable,” Aunt CiCi scolded. She then turned to Richard, “They still haven’t fixed your apartment yet?”

“No Ma!” George exclaimed. “They are _living_ together. Richard and Anne are playing Monica and Chandler!”

Aunt CiCi’s eyes narrowed. “Richard, you and Anne got married in Vegas?”

“No!” George shouted. “That’s Ross and Rachel; Richard and Anne are playing Scott Disick and Kourtney Kardashian!”

“I have no idea who these people are,” Aunt CiCi couldn’t be more confused.

“What I’m saying is that Anne and Richard are living together! They are making a love nest! They are sharing a bed and taste each other’s meal! They are LIVING TOGETHER!”

I think all angels in the heaven heard him.

“Can you say that louder George,” Richard rolled his eyes. “The whole NYC can’t hear you.”

Bess cried and ran into the house; Liz went after her.

Ed looked at us, “Congratulations.”

“What is there to congratulate about? Living together unmarried,” Aunt CiCi’s tone turned dark. “Anne, I am so relieved that your father did not live to see this. And Richard, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Hold on here,” Richard objected to her judgments. “We are in the 21st century and we are both consenting adults. What’s so wrong?”

“Are you two getting married?” Aunt CiCi asked.

“No,” I answered. “Not now…”

“You are living together but not considering marriage? Where do you plan to go from here?”

My tongue was tied.

“Look Mom,” Richard said to her. “I know you don’t approve, which is why I didn’t tell you or anyone else. But now you know. The truth is that Anne and I are together, and we are happy with each other. Honestly, we don’t need your approval since we are working adults.”

Aunt CiCi was silent; by her face, I knew she was pissed.

Finally she talked.

“Fine, have it your way. But keep this in mind: no grandchild of mine is born a bastard,” she told him coldly. “Welcome to the family Anne.”

***

The evening ended awkwardly.

Before Richard and I depart, Aunt CiCi called after me. She wanted to speak with me, alone.

Richard objected, “Anne and I are together, Mom. Whatever matters to her matters to me.”

“It’s okay Richard,” I told him. “Go home, I’ll be after you.”

Reluctantly, he agreed, to Aunt CiCi’s discomfort. People say that boys are their mothers’ until the day they meet their significant others. Aunt CiCi was probably hurt to see that Richard refused to listen to her but obliged to me.

“Come sit,” Aunt CiCi instructed. “This is me, I was eighteen.” She shared her old pictures, reminiscing the good old time. “I came to New York with a dream. I wanted to be a dancer. But life was harder than I expected. And I met Richard…before I knew it, I was pregnant and my dancing career was finished.”

She continued. “I was lucky; Richard was a good man who loved me. When we married the moment before we had Ed. When he told his family what he did, they threw him out of the house.”

“No,” I gasped. “But he stayed with you.”

She nodded. “Richard loved me. When a man loves a woman, he’d sacrifice everything for her. Your father, unfortunately, did not do this for your mother.”

“What?”

Aunt CiCi looked at me sadly, “Your mother fell in love with your father and she’s a wealthy banker’s daughter. At that time, your father and Richard were struggling lawyers at poor side of the city. It was your mother who obtained money for them to establish a legitimate practice. She almost fell out with her father. But your father, I assumed he loved your mother in his way, neglected her most of the time.”

“She probably wouldn’t feel that way if she get out of the house and worked,” I retorted.

“People are different, Annie. Not all women raised to be working women,” she looked at me. “Tell me Anne, do you love Richard?”

“I do,” I replied without a hesitation.

“Does Richard love you?”

“He does,” I said. “He loved me a long time; he always have.”

“Oh Annie,” she pulled me into her arms and held me tightly. “If you and Richard do get married, I would not object. Long ago, I had a husband and three boys. A drunk driver took away my husband; Ed is no longer mine; and George, he’s something else. You made a right choice with Richard.”

I hugged her back, with tears in my eyes.

With a tissue, she wiped away my tears. “If you get married, remember to send your mother an invite. I know you are mad at her, but she is still your mother.”

I nodded.

“Now, go home to Richard.”

***

On my way home, Izzy texted me, saying that if I need to borrow her wedding dress just in case, it will always be available.

I replied a simple thank you.

When I got home, Richard was up waiting for me.

I went to him and held him without a word.

I didn’t need to say anything.

He knew.

Our hearts were that connected.

We went to bed and enjoyed being with one another.

We were happy.

That was all I knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, maybe not funny enough. 
> 
> Comments please!
> 
> The entire story's plot is all planned out. The only remaining problem is my energy. But the kudos and comments keep my spirit up. I thank you all!


	14. Happy Anniversary

Time went by fast. Before I knew it, Richard and I had lived together for almost a year.

Lots of things happened. Izzy had her baby; it was a girl. They named her Margaret. George tried to hide his disappointment, even though he should’ve tried harder. At the hospital, I held little Margaret for a long time. She was the most adorable baby in the world.

It was at that moment when I felt something was missing in my life. Maybe it sounds a little strange, but I wanted to have a baby of my own.

Watching Richard playing with Bess, I knew that he would make a great father. His patience with me from the very beginning hinted that too. I envisioned the moment when I tell him our “little news”; the moment we went to the doctor’s; the moment we find out the baby’s sex; the moment when I scare him by pretend to go into labor; and the moment when we hold our baby. I daydreamed so deep that the nurse had to pull me out of it. Blushing, I handed Margaret back to Izzy.

After leaving the hospital, I went out for a long walk in NYC. My phone was silent; when I checked, Richard called me ten times. I guess I worried him.

Richard was waiting for me when I got home; it was very late at night.

“Where have you been?” he was concerned. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I threw my arms around him and kissed him tenderly. Burying my face into his neck, I inhaled his scent.

“What is it?” he pressed.

“Nothing,” I murmured. “I just want you.”

He gently stroked my hair. “You want to try something different tonight?” he asked in a husky voice.

“Sure,” I answered almost half-heartedly. “As long as I have you.”

He grinned and pushed me down on the couch. He tore my blouse open and rolled his tongue from my neck down to my ribcage. My back curved with pleasure. His hand snaked under my skirt and pulled down my pantyhose stocking. Suddenly, his gentle hands turned hard. He grabbed my hands and held them over my head. He then tied them together with one end of my pantyhose stocking and then tied the other end to a foot of the couch.

“Whoa!” I opened my eyes. It was much tighter than I expected. I was really tied up.

“You are bad today,” Richard teased me, as his fingers traced the valley of my breasts. “I called you so many times and you did not answer.”

“My phone is on silence,” I explained.

“Not good enough,” he traced his fingers down to my stomach. “Tell me, how much do you want me?”

“Very.”

“What do you like me to do to you tonight?” he asked as he pulled down my skirt.

_Impregnate me…_

I did not say that out loud. Instead, I bit my lips.

“Tell me,” he commanded.

“No!” I protested. It was something I wasn’t ready to tell him yet.

“Tell me,” he persisted, with his tongue travelling up to my thigh. And suddenly, he stopped; instead, he stroked my belly. My back curved again.

“Stop teasing me, Richard!” I protested. “Just fuck me already!”

“Not until you tell me what is bothering you.”

“I told you already, I want you!”

“No,” he was not convinced. “There’s something else.”

I didn’t say a word.

“Fine,” he got up and I remained tied down to the couch.

“Wait!” I panicked as he waltzed away. “Untie me!”

He acted as if he did not hear me. He did come back though, completely shirtless with vanilla ice cream and strawberry syrup. Now he was really at his game.

Sitting on the coffee table, Richard enjoyed his ice cream while I watched.

“You are such a cruel and unusual jerkass!” I spat as he added the strawberry syrup to the ice cream.

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m just warming up.” He placed a spoonful of ice cream above my belly button and playfully licked it off.

Then, he pushed up my bra and dipped the ice cream around my nipples. I could feel him enjoying vanilla ice cream and my nipples at the same time.

“Okay, I give!” I couldn’t resist anymore. “Fuck me first and I will tell you afterwards.”

Richard playfully tipped the ice cream on my nose. “How about tell me first and then I’ll fuck you?”

“Not a chance,” I smirked.

“You dare to challenge me?”

“Richard, if you don’t fuck me now, I think you’d be suffering from blue balls for rest of the night.”

“Clever girl,” he said as he climbed on top of me. Pulling down my panties, he teased me down there with his fingers. With my hands tied, I teased his skin with my lips and tongue. Finally, he gave in.

As he entered me, he reached to my wrists and untied me. My hands were all over him like I were mad.

After the heat of passion and hot sex, he rested his head against mine.

“What was on your mind?” he asked as he stroked my breasts.

“I want a dog,” I managed to say. That wasn’t exactly truthful, but not a lie either.

“You were gone that long of time because you want a dog?” He chuckled. “When we left the pet store, you said you aren’t sure about it.”

“I was with Izzy the whole afternoon, holding her little girl,” I spilled the beans. “It just hit me. I feel like something is missing in my life.”

“So, you want a baby?” he asked as he moved his hand down to my belly.

“Not right now, but I think we can start with a dog to be safe.”

Richard was silent.

“You don’t want a dog?” I asked.

“I am thinking…” He paused. “Francis’ grandma, her dog just had puppies a week ago. I think we can adopt one.”

I stroked his hair. “Richard, why are you so nice to me?”

“Because I love you.” He pulled down the cover from the couch and wrapped his arms around me.

***

Francis’ grandmother was an 80-year old sassy lady. Her big black dog gave birth to six puppies. And we adopted one.

And thus, Richard and I had our first bundle of joy: a puppy we named Gareth. Richard’s face was the brightest when I placed little Gareth in his arms. Sarcastically, Francis congratulated us on our first “baby”. He even joked that Gareth takes after his _father_. Indeed, his black fur does match Richard’s back hair.

Gareth was a great addition to our lives. He was a very active dog. Every morning, he’d run all over the apartment and then jumped into bed with us. Richard and I loved him to death.

Having Gareth brought Richard and I closer together. We spent more time scheduling our days around him. Before we had Gareth, we never planned for anything. Now with Gareth, everything was different. One of us had to be home to feed him; one of us had to get up earlier in the morning to walk him; we had to get him a vet and we wanted the best vet in the city. Watching Gareth growing bigger and bigger couldn’t make us happier.

***

As Gareth was growing bigger, so was Margaret. Soon she was big enough for stroller. On weekends, Izzy and I would walk in Central Park together; she pushed Margaret in her stroller; and I walked Gareth. It was good bonding time for us as well.

“You really love that dog,” Izzy pointed out.

“His name is Gareth,” I corrected her. Gareth is always more than a dog.

“Fine, you really love _Gareth_ ,” Izzy then switched the subject. “So, Annie, when is Richard going to ask you?”

“Ask me what?”

“You know,” Izzy giggled. “ _The_ question.”

I knew what she meant, but I did not want to talk about it.

“Come on Annie, you and Richard have lived together for almost a year now. Everyone knows how much he loves you,” Izzy said. “I can tell you now, George would never stand up for me in front of Aunt CiCi like Richard for you. And you have Gareth.”

I was quiet.

“Has he hinted anything yet?” Izzy continued.

“No,” I muttered. “We never talked about it.”

“But if he asks, would you say yes?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Izzy was surprised. “Annie, what do you mean by _you don’t know_? The way you are with him, all you need is a marriage certificate and ceremony.”

“I guess.” By now, my energy and enthusiasm were gone.

The truth was that the engagement nightmare with Edward Lancaster still haunted me, even though the engagement was a short one. When Edward proposed, it was really romantic at the time—the man, the suit, the ring, the fountain, the stars…and then jail, court trial, family fallout, and humiliation. In general, I was not comfortable with the thoughts of a man down on one knee and popped me that question. In fact, sometimes, I pictured that Edward Lancaster proposed to me by bungee jump. He jumped off, asked me to marry him, and then smashed into the ground.

That would be funny.

But not if he’s Richard.

“Annie, I know you would not be happy to hear what I have to say, but I have to say it for your own good,” Izzy continued on.

“Oh great,” I mumbled. “Spill it out.”

“Two people living together as a couple without marriage is never good in long terms,” Izzy pointed out. “George handled a number of cases when a unmarried couple who lived together but split up and wants to divide the property evenly. They can’t, because without marriage, they are not able to do that.”

“Richard and I are not breaking up!”

“It’s more than just that. What if something happens to you, or to Richard? If Richard got into an accident—“

“Don’t!” I interrupted her. “I don’t want to hear things like that.”

“Fine, if you got into an accident, Richard is not even permitted to stay by your side because he is not your husband. He cannot act on your behalf because of that too. I know you are not financially dependent on him, but there are times when you need him and he needs you. Things can be a lot easier for both of you if you are married.”

She did have a point.

“Annie, maybe you should talk to Richard about it. At least, discuss about your future. I’m sure you won’t like it when he finally popped the question when you are gray and old and on a deathbed.”

“Farrah Fawcett liked it,” I commented.

Izzy let out a deep sigh.

***

Another thing I did not tell Izzy was that lately, I found Richard avoiding me.

It was strange, because it occurred so suddenly.

Suddenly, he had to stay very late.

Suddenly, he had to cancel our dinner.

Suddenly, he had to leave early.

When I asked, he would say it was his cases. Constantly, he reminded me that the things he does are privileged, which means cannot be shared.

I was hurt and felt abandoned somewhat.

When I came home, it was empty and Gareth was the only one waited for me.

He still joined me in bed, but he made love to me less frequently.

In time, I worried.

_What is going on with him?_

Sitting in the kitchen, staring at my reflection in the latte, my imagination went wild. Was Richard defending a serial killer? A child molester? A member of Mafia? Was he threatened to do something against his conscience? Would I receive a cold call telling me that he died in an accident (aka witness protection program)?

_What I do without him?_

To shake off my frustration, I took Gareth out for a walk. As I strolled down the street, I spotted Richard. Wait a minute, shouldn’t he be at the law firm?

No, instead, he was at a café stand.

Soon, another person joined him.

Another girl.

Tall, blonde, gorgeous smile: Mary Burgundy, the paralegal.

My whole body was shaken. Gareth started to growl, but I hushed him.

“Come on, Gareth,” that was all I could say in a whisper.

Quietly, I went home with Gareth.

***

Richard came home very late that night, which became more usual than ever. I felt his weight on the bed, but I didn’t nudge or even turned. I remained on my side. I felt his hand stroked my arm, but I did not turn away either. In truth, I didn’t know how to respond.

Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Maybe Mary needed some help with her bar exam or whatever she needs for her career.

Maybe Richard just happened to run into her.

I thought he would ask me about my lack of response. I still remembered that hot night we had after I came home late that day. Now, the heat cooled down.

This time he did nothing.

Instead, he only kissed me on the forehead and went to sleep on his side.

I felt that we were divided by an unseen wall.

I wanted to confront him about Mary, but I had no spirit to talk.

The night went on with silence between us.

***

To uplift my spirit, I went to shopping at Manhattan. As I looked through the dresses at Banana Republic, a red hair young woman approached me.

“Can I help you?” She was nice and somewhat spicy.

“No thanks,” I replied.

“You look at little down, is everything all right?”

_Well, at least someone is concerned!_

“I’m fine.” I changed the tune. “I like to try on that green dress displayed on the window.”

“Sure,” she went to get the dress. “Small I assume?”

“Yeah.”

I went to the fitting room and tried to focus on the dress. But my heart was all about Richard.

“Let me guess, it’s about a guy, isn’t it?” The red hair girl asked.

“How did you know?”

“Because I am a woman!” She laughed. “Men are strange creatures; they have needs. If they cannot fulfill their needs, they look elsewhere.”

“Not all men are like that,” I disagreed flatly.

“Trust me, all men are like that.”

“Jane Shore, you are needed in the front,” store manager said to her, interrupting our conversation.

“I’ll be there!” The red hair girl responded. “Got to go, but stop being so blue. Men are the same all over!”

_All men are the same…including Richard._

_***_

And yet surprisingly, Richard came home early that day. I was lying on the couch reading a magazine when I saw him. I only gave him a smile.

“Get dressed, I’m going to take you out!” He said rather excitedly.

“Where are we going?” I asked flatly.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, as he took off the tie.

Slowly, I rose from the couch and went to change. I put on that green dress I bought from Banana Republic and pulled my hair up in a French updo.

When I walked out, Richard was amazed with my looks and held out his hand. Quietly I placed my hand in his and followed him.

Richard took me to this fancy seafood place. The table was already reserved for us.

“Do you know what day is today?” He asked.

“Tuesday?” I answered.

“No,” He leaned close to me. “One hint: you were very bad one year ago today.”

“What did I do?” I couldn’t be more confused.

Richard laughed. “You got yourself drunk, vomited all over my suit, and passed out on me, remember?”

“Oh,” Suddenly it popped into my mind.

“One year ago, you popped back in my life. Happy anniversary sweetheart,” Richard kissed my fingers.

I laughed. I hadn’t laughed for a long while.

Before I could say anything, _she_ appeared before our table.

It was Mary.

“Richard!” She was there all excited. Her hands were clutched into fists. All parts of her body were moving.

“Oh hi Mary,” Richard blushed a little.

I said nothing.

“Well?” She asked.

“Well what?” I said to her flatly.

“Well?” She continued to ask more excitedly.

“Mary, please,” Richard waved her away. She took the hint, and then went away giggling like a school girl.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Richard took my tulip glass and poured me a glass of Champaign. “She just has some grow up to do.”

 _Grow up?_ I didn’t like the sound of that. _Losing virginity = growing up._

Before he hand me my Champaign, he warned, “Did you eat something yet?”

“Oh no,” I hardly touched anything.

“Eat first,” he instructed. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable tonight. I don’t have Advil.”

I was uncomfortable already.

The waiter served us the main dish. It was two lobsters with their claws linked together.

“Wow,” I muttered.

“Two lobsters linked together even after death,” Richard said to me with a smile. I remember that night, when he and Edward fought.

“How long have you planned this?” I asked.

“Don’t ask, just enjoy,” he looked at me as if he was waiting for me to eat.

And I did eat, just to get him to stop looking at me.

As I ate, floods of thoughts and guesses drained my mind. I couldn’t place the two pictures together: Richard being cold and Richard being exceptionally romantic. And then, thinking of Mary, I remembered a scene in the movie _Sliding Doors._ Gwyneth Paltrow’s character Helen was cheated by her living-in boyfriend. When he broke off with his mistress Lydia, he wanted to make up with Helen by presenting her roses and taking her out, using the reason “we had not been together for so long so let’s catch up”.

Wasn’t Richard doing the exact same thing?

Sort of.

Maybe.

“Ugh, excuse me. I’ll be back in a second,” Richard got up and left to the bathroom.

After he was gone, I grabbed the Champaign and chunked it all.

I kind of want to get this night over with.

Everything was in an awkward position.

Everything was strange.

Everyone was up to something.

_All men are the same. If they cannot fulfill their needs at home, they’d look for it elsewhere…_

Everything is not right…

…and it hurts.

It hurt for real.

I meant really for real.

Something was stuck in my throat.

I was choking. I could not breathe.

I wanted to cry for help, but no voice came out.

With my hands hold my throat, the pain was so acute that I fell from the chair.

The panic, the fear, the confusion, the pain—everything went blurry and every sound disappeared.

I blacked out.

***

_The Queen made her entrance and all the nobles and ladies rose. The Queen took the seat next to the King._

_The King handed the Queen her goblet._

_"To life, my lady," The King raised his goblet.  
_

_The Queen nodded gently and drinked the wine from the goblet.  
_

_Then her smile faded. She placed her hands near her throat; she was burning.  
_

_She lost her balance and fell to the ground.  
_

_No one helped her.  
_

_She helplessly looked at the King.  
_

_"I told you, my lady," The King smiled sinisterly. "I shall marry you, but I will not keep you for long..."  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. 
> 
> I hate to say it, but I am kind of sad that the story is coming to end.
> 
> And comments please...
> 
> Announcement: the final chapter will be posted next weekend.


	15. Sleepless in ER

The sky was dark and it poured heavily. The weather was chilling; it was such an exceptional day in June.

But it was perfect for a funeral service.

A small group of individuals gathered around a casket. It was unbearably silent until a young woman placed a white rose on the casket. The priest, opened his Bible, started to read the verses. Life is short indeed.

Among the individuals, there was a young man who looked forty, but was only 28. His eyes were red; lips were bruised; hair was greasy; hands were shaking. Nothing could’ve been more painful than being separated suddenly from one’s soulmate and best friend.

“I’ll be back,” he had said it to her. But when he returned, she was on the ground dead.

She left him without a kiss or even goodbye.

And no explanation.

Why?

Was she mad at him? Was the whole thing a joke?

That young man never left the site of burial.

He feared to left her alone.

He wanted to follow, for he was her protector, her best friend, her other half.

***

I stood by the oak tree and watched as everything happened around me. My body was light as a feather. I guessed that’s what it feels like to be dead.

I felt lighter and lighter, until I started to fly. I closed my eyes as lights surrounded me. I was going to heaven, for I had been good and pure. Well, not exactly pure but definitely good.

“Greetings,” an angel appeared before me.

I opened my eyes. To my surprise, it was Daddy.

“Daddy?” I reached out.

He did not take my hands. “Little Lady Anne?” He was even more surprised than I. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m dead, I assume?”

He shook his head. “So soon…too young.”

“You are taking me to heaven?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “I am assigned to bring the souls to judgment. Heaven or hell, it depends on how you are judged.”

“Would I go to heaven, then?”

“I have no say in that,” he replied. “Now, before we depart from this sinful earth, is there anything you like to request?”

I nodded. “I like to see Isabel, Margaret…Mother…and Richard for the last time.”

“Granted.”

Before I knew it, I was at Isabel’s house seeing her holding little Margaret, and her belly was swollen again. George was making appointment to find out baby’s gender. Then I was at a shelter, where Mother slept along with the homeless people. At last, I forgave her.

“Now, let’s go,” Daddy took my hand.

“No,” I protested. “I haven’t see Richard yet. I have to see him.”

“Unfortunately you can’t,” Daddy told me.

“Why not?”

“He is no one to you.”

“No!” I demanded. “He is more than just anyone. He is my soul mate! My best friend! My protector! My other half! Please, let me see him…even just a glimpse!”

Daddy opened his records, “The record here clearly states that you are single and unmarried.”

“He is not my husband, but he could’ve been—“

“Only a valid marriage can verify your relations.”

“Please Daddy!” I cried desperately. “Let me see him.”

“No,” he insisted. “Rules are the rules. You are never to see him again.”

“No, please!” I tried to pull away from Daddy, but couldn’t. “Richard! Richard! Richard…”

As we ascended, Daddy went through his records. “Speaking of Richard…I see his name.”

“What?” I was shocked. “He was alive, I saw him at my funeral.”

“Ah little lady, one minute here is equivalent to one year in the mortal world,” he explained. “Didn’t you notice that ghosts never age?”

“How did he die?”

“Confidential,” he replied flatly.

“Please stop!” I begged. “Let’s go pick up Richard, and I want to be with him.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Before I knew it, I appeared before three Judges. When I saw them, to my horror, their faces resembled the faces of Margaret the Bad Queen, William Stanley, and that long-faced middle aged woman who stalked Richard.

“Anne Neville, editor of La Mode Publisher,” one of them opened my record and reviewed my files. “I see no sins other than sexual liaisons outside of marriage.”

“Do you repent your sin?” another one asked.

After a moment of silence, I answered, “No.”

The three Judges looked at me as if I were mad.

I looked at them and said, “All my life, I had been good. There is no evil in my heart. That sin you mentioned, is the result of genuine love. I have no regret, even if it means for me to be condemned to hell.”

“Limbo then,” the one sat in the center—the one who resembled Margaret the Bad Queen—announced.

_So be it…that’s probably where Richard will be too…at least we will be in the same dimension…_

“Wait!” A small angel appeared and whispered something to the Judges.

“Ah a mistake!” The Judge (or Margaret the Bad Queen) cried out. “Looks like you are not quite dead yet, Anne Neville.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I heard.

“It says here that you are on the edge of death and you are not dead enough to be here,” the Judge who resembled William Stanley said flatly. “Take her away.”

Before I knew it, the Judges were gone. And Daddy appeared besides me again.

“Well, looks like I have to take you back to the mortal world, young lady,” he said with some tone of sadness.

I shook my head. “Life would have no meaning without Richard.”

Daddy moved a strand of my hair. “If there is one thing you like to ask from God, what would it be?”

I laughed, “A beautiful world, without broken heart…without hatred, envy, war.”

“This is not the final round for Miss America.”

It was a foolish response from me. I looked at Daddy and this time told him my only true desire, “I want to be with Richard, heaven, hell or on earth. I want him to be happy just as he wanted me to be. We deserve to be together longer than we have…”

In response, Daddy made some strange noise: beep, beep, beep…

Everything turned white.

***

I blinked, and the surrounding was so bright that I could barely open my eyes.

My body was no longer light. Instead, it was so heavy that I could barely stand.

To be exact, I was not even standing; I was in bed.

With a needle in my arm.

I was in a hospital.

“She’s awake!” I heard voices and whispers.

I tried to speak, but only mumbled, “Richard…Richard…”

Footsteps.

Then, a pair of warm hands took mine and held them tightly.

“Anne, I’m here,” the voice belonged to Richard.

Richard, my Richard.

My love, my protector, my soul mate…

His voice had the power to remove all the obstacles that my eyes opened swiftly. There he was—alive and by my side. Without another word, he threw his arms around me. Burying his face in my shoulder, he held me tightly. Gently, I placed my arms around him as well, and whispered, “Thank you, Daddy.”

***

Turns out I was in a coma for almost two days, or at least that was what the nurses told me.

“I am so surprised that he is not your husband,” one of the nurses, Mary, commented. “He is so attentive.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“You were sent here because you choked on something; you were unconscious. That boy, he almost went mad. We couldn’t let him stay because he is not your husband. HIPAA violation, “she explained. “He spent rest of the days roaming in the waiting area, making a zillion phone calls. Then your sister arrived with her husband…Finally he was permitted to see you. He stayed by your bedside until the doctor insisted that he leaves.”

“And you constantly mumbled his name,” another nurse added.

Then I heard a knock, and it was Richard. The nurses giggled and left us alone.

He sat beside me, took my hand and kissed me on the cheek.

“Do I look horrible?” I asked.

“No, you always look beautiful,” he said.

Intertwined my fingers around his, I asked, “Did I scare you?”

“You sure did,” he almost laughed at himself.

“Richard,” I looked at him. “We have to sue that restaurant. I mean, how could they be so irresponsible with customer’s safety? What did they put in the drink? I was fine until I drank that glass of champagne. Maybe they didn’t prepare it right….or maybe something was wrong with the glass…”

“We can’t,” Richard muttered.

“Why?”

“Because I’m the one who prepared the drink,” he replied.

“What?”

“That night, I planned it weeks ago,” he explained, stroking my hand. “I wanted to ask you for sometimes. Three months of salary, I want the right one for you. Mary Burgundy’s father is a manager at Tiffany’s. I spent days just to find the right one. I was so nervous…I couldn’t believe myself. I mean, I can face William Stanley in a court room, but I don’t have the guts to ask you that question. So, to make the night romantic, I placed the ring in your champagne glass. You were supposed to realize it when we raise the glass…I got nervous the second before so I went the bathroom to prepare myself. When I came back, you were unconscious on the floor…

“You…you were to propose?” I asked.

“Yes,” he looked at me with tears in his eyes, stroking my cheek.

“Since when?”

“Remember the day we went to the pet store to get a dog? Ed came with his three girls. Seeing Bess, Cece, and May surrounding me and asked me to help them to pick at pet, I realized how much I craved for the day when we could do that with our kids.”

“If you were given another chance, would you ask me again?” I asked carefully, fearing him to say no.

“Of course I will.”

“Even after all the troubles I caused you?”

“Even if I have to climb the Mount Everest, swim across the Pacific Ocean, or being slaughtered and buried under a parking lot.”

“Can you ask me again, here and now?” I was choking on my tears.

“Yes, but you can’t cry,” he wiped away my tears. “I want you to be at your happiest.”

“I am, you dummy,” I sniffed.

Richard got down to his knees. Holding my hand, he looked at me in the eye and said, “Anne, I love you and there is never anyone else. You are my other half, the joy of my life. You are it, Anne. You are the person I want to see when I awake. You are the person I want to share my meals with. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Wherever you go, I follow. Anne Neville, will you marry me?”

Still choking on my tears, I nodded and finally managed to say, “Yes.”

Reaching his pocket, Richard took out the ring and slipped it on my left hand. It was a beautiful white gold diamond ring.

We held on to each other and stayed there until the nurses found us.

***

I was discharged on that day. Richard took me home. I held on to him the whole time.

This is the man for me.

This is the man I will marry.

Once we stepped back into our apartment, I went straight to the bedroom. I started to remove my clothes. I wanted to make love to him wearing only my engagement ring.

“Don’t,” Richard stopped me. “Allow me.” His lips travelled from my throat to my breasts as he slipped my dress off me. I grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. We fell on the bed together, peeling off each other’s clothes, touching skin to skin. I closed my eyes and felt the cool metal on my left hand pressed against his skin and mine.

“I love you,” I whispered into his ear.

He looked at me and brushing his lips against the ring. “Promise me one thing, dear heart. Whatever you do, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“I promise,” I said. “Next time I drink, I definitely check the glass through and through.”

He laughed and gave me a kiss.

I fell asleep in his arms. I was the happiest girl in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I wanted to post it next week but I have to get this out of my system.
> 
> This is not the last chapter.
> 
> The title is not "How I met My Fiance".
> 
> Comments please!


	16. You, Me, and Mother

Richard and I were engaged.

He was now my fiancé.

I was so happy.

And everyone at work noticed how different I became. I smiled so happily and I laughed a lot more. My co-workers asked me to show them my ring. I was a happy blushing bride-to-be.

Being engaged to Richard prompted me to think more about family. We were still living in our two-bedroom apartment. Richard and I occupied one and the other one was left empty. I know, I was the one who suggested the two bedrooms just in case if we get into an argument and need some time alone. But I should’ve known better, because each time after we argued, we made up. So, to sum it up, that bed in the second bedroom was unoccupied.

Richard and I slept in the main bedroom and Gareth slept in the living room. Sometimes, I wondered if sooner or later that room would be occupied by a new addition to the family. I envisioned that room with a crib and a changing table; then a few years later, a small bed and a lamp. We would spend the night reading bedtime stories to our little one and then make sure that he or she is sound asleep so that we can go have our passionate moment. I rubbed my belly from time to time, imaging a baby growing inside.

And a couple months later, we did have an addition to the family. But it was not a baby; it was my Mother.

***

It was sort of my fault that Mother ended up living with us.

The night after I was discharged from ER, I told Richard what I saw in my coma after our sweet love-making.

“It sounds strange, but after I blacked out, I saw us as Richard III and Queen Anne,” I said.

“What?” Richard raised by his elbow.

“You know, that hunchback evil King of England who murdered his nephews. That evil king poisoned his queen.”

“Anne, that’s nonsense,” Richard said. “You know I wouldn’t do that. And whatever you saw, it’s not even historically true.”

“Yes, it’s true,” I insisted. “I read Shakespeare’s _Richard III_ and I saw Laurence Olivier’s film many times. That monstrous King seduced his queen over her first husband’s dead body and then poisoned her after he became king.”

“That’s only fiction,” Richard murmured.

“So historically, what happened then?”

“From what I read, Richard III loved his Queen Anne. They knew each other since they were children and they married for more than a decade. They had one child, who died young. The Queen died from TB and probably a broken heart. King Richard cried openly at her funeral. And FYI, he was not hunchback,” he looked at me and then added, “I double majored in history Anne.”

_Oh great, got lawyered._

“You know, when people say once you are with a lawyer, you are definitely screwed,” I said sarcastically.

“What else did you saw?” Richard asked, stroking my arm.

I told him that I saw Daddy and how he gave us his blessing; that Izzy may be expecting baby no. 2; and that I saw Mother living in a shelter for the homeless.

“She was sleeping with hobos and runaways,” I mumbled, settling in his arms. “For the first time since the trial, I felt something for her. She is my mom after all. It’s horrible to see her in such circumstance. Come think of it, I was so busy mad at her that I never thought about where she was actually staying. I am such a bad daughter…”

I continued until I drifted asleep.

***

On the next day, after I came home from work, I saw an unexpected guest sitting in our living room—Mother.

“I heard you got engaged,” she greeted me coolly. “You did not even tell me about it.”

Before I could respond, Richard came walked out from our second bedroom. “You are all settled. I assume you’ll be happy here.”

I looked at him with disbelief.

“Richard, may I have a word with you?” With that said, I pulled him into our bedroom with the door shut behind me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing you a favor,” he replied.

“What favor?” I asked, as if he lost his head. “You know how I feel about her? How could you let her stay with us? Don’t you have any idea how our life can be destroyed?”

“Anne listen to me,” Richard held my hands in his. “I am doing this for you and for us. Last night, you said it yourself on bad you feel for leaving her with the homeless. So, I brought her here and I will take care of her issues. Eventually she’ll be out of here and we can put this behind us.”

“Eventually as…?” I questioned. Honestly, that could be years.

“As I took care of her issues,” he replied. “Your mother spent all her money and made some bad investments. She is now penniless but firmly believed that she had money somewhere saved in a bank. She does have some inheritance from her father. As soon as we resolve that issue, she will have her own place to live.”

“We as…”

“We as George and I.”

“Wow, since when you two became brother-in-arms?” I mocked.

“Since the day we both want her to get off our backs?”

“Fair enough,” I turned.

I opened the door and walked to Mother, who was watching “Keeping Up with the Kardashians”. I blocked her view and folded my arms, “Richard and I talked.”

“Anne, move out of the way.”

“Mother, I am speaking to you,” I scolded. This was my house and my rules. “Richard and I agreed that you can stay, but only for the time being. Soon, he and George will take care of your financial issues. Once that’s done, you will live on your own. Am I clear?”

Mother looked at Richard. “You allow her to talk to her mother like this?”

“Look Aunt Nan, Anne is generous enough to allow you to stay. In fact, it was she who suggested the idea and you should appreciate that. I would not like it if you do anything to hurt her or make her uncomfortable,” Richard told her as his hand held on to mine.

“This is not acceptable!” Mother stood up. “I cannot believe this! My daughter, unmarried, living in with a man and speak to me as if she were Queen of England. And you Richard, occupying the master bedroom, sent me to sleep in that small guest room. Well, I cannot think how I spent the rest of the nights imaging you two doing all these disgusting things together. Just…just don’t talk to me!”

With that said she stormed in to our bedroom and shut the door behind us.

Within a few seconds, the opening song for “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” was playing.

_My mother!_

“Richard, get up early tomorrow and please work hard to get her out of here.”

***

Living under our roof, Mother resumed her annoying habits—watching reality TV, doing nothing valuable, being a waste of life.

And being a major nuisance!

Guess what she did that finally driven me to throw her out and never speak to her again?

When I was in the middle of the work, she phoned me and asked me if I can go grab coffee with her. She had something important to tell me. I told her no; and she continued to call until I said yes. Sitting across from her, I wondered what she was up to.

“Anne, I have to tell you this: you cannot marry Richard!” She said in a whisper but very insistent.

“Mother, Richard and I are in love and we decided to get marry. You don’t have a say in this,” I told her sternly. “And how could say that? He was the one who saved you from that homeless shelter!”

“He is trying to steal my fortune!” Mother said hatefully. “He told the court that I am mentally unfit to manage my property and asked the court to have him as my guardian. Do you know what that means?”

“Look, you don’t have any money,” I really had it with her. “And even if he told the court that you are mentally unfit, he is not far from the truth.”

“You are marrying a manipulative unreliable man, don’t you know that?” Mother continued. “One day, he will abandon you and left you penniless. You should stand with me and we can fight him together!”

I let out a sigh. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Just because your marriage sucked for you does not mean that you have the right to destroy mine.”

Without a word, Mother placed three photos in front of me. One was a picture of Richard in his college years with a brunette; one was a picture of that brunette holding a young boy with dark curls; and one was Richard in his childhood years.

What was this about?

“He did not tell you about his ex-girlfriend, did he? That he has a son with her?” Mother questioned me haughtily. “Can you look at me in the eyes and tell me that boy is not your fiance’s son?”

I was speechless.

“Where did you get these photos?” I finally managed to ask, my voice slightly shaking.

“Facebook,” she replied simply as if she turned the table against me.

Maybe she did.

***

My body felt so light that I could hardly walk.

Was it all just a coincidence? Surely Richard is not the only man on earth with dark curls. But comparing to that boy and Richard’s childhood photos, there was a striking resemblance. Or maybe that brunette had a taste for men with black curls?

That night, I wanted to ask Richard about it but couldn’t. It was on the tip of my tongue but couldn’t spit it out.

“Richard…” I started, but couldn’t finish.

“Hmm?”

I held my breath, then let out the words, “You know, we never shared our lists.”

“What lists?” He opened his eyes.

“List of our exes,” I said. “Like before me, was there anyone else?”

He laughed. “Why are you interested in that?”

“Was there?” I persisted.

“Well,” he pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair, and said, “Back in college, there was a girl named Kate.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and she is my first. It was back in college before I was started law school.”

“Where is she now?”

“Last time I heard, she ran off with some deadbeat guy and dropped out of school.”

“What does she look like?” I asked.

“Not as half as pretty as you, but she is a brunette and quite attractive.”

“You don’t think that she got knocked up, do you?” I uneasily brought up that subject.

“Probably,” he replied. “And after Kate, there was you; only you. Now, your turn.”

“My turn?”

“How many guys where there before me?” He asked softly.

“You are the one who ripped my v-card.”

“But was there anyone serious?”

“No,” I said simply. “I guess you are the one and only.”

Hearing that, he rolled on top of me. “And your one and only like to make you his tonight.”

***

Kate…Kate…Kate…

That name haunted me to the point that it was driving me crazy.

And I probably was crazy since I reached out to Mother to find out the truth.

Mother, using Facebook, found her name: Katherine “Kate” Haute. I searched her on White Page, finding her living in Brooklyn. Staring at the address, I planned to go and meet her, but I changed my mind. I decided to let it go.

But Mother did not. She brought it up to Richard—at our engagement party.

Our engagement party was a small occasion with a small group of people, our friends and family members, Mother included. Ed, Liz, George, Izzy, all their children (thus our nieces and nephews), Francis, Rob were there as well; even the Woodville brothers and Jackie River were invited. Everyone was in good mood; they all had a good laughs about that restaurant incident.

“Annie, you of all people should know never to chunk alcohol like that,” Izzy teased. “Don’t you learn? How many bad experiences you need?”

“By the way, Richard,” Rob joked. “Did you upgrade your insurance policy yet? I think you need a safer insurance with her.”

“Hey,” Richard raised a finger and then put his arm around me. “Don’t even go there.”

“Didn’t you read that story about a guy hiding the ring in the girl’s milkshake?” Francis chimed in as well. “That girl drank it and then ran a marathon. She had no idea she swallowed a diamond ring. She ended up finding it in her—“

“Oh God!” Everyone stopped him from finishing the phrase.

Then Ed clink his wine glass and toasted, “I just want to say how happy I am for my little brother and his fiancée Anne. They had been through so much together and I have to say, if there are any two individuals who will always wound up together high or low, it’s these two. And I promise you, it won’t be long before I’m standing as the Godfather of Richard’s first child.”

“If you want, you can be one now,” Mother said nonchalantly. Everyone was silenced.

“What are you saying?” Ed asked, a little confused; then he turned to us. “Are you two…”

“No,” I blunted out.

Mother looked hatefully at Richard. “You, thief and liar, irresponsible deadbeat father.”

“How many drinks have you had?” Richard tried to sound calm and nice as he could.

“I am very sober,” she replied with her head held high. “And I have the proof. Johnny, come out!”

A small boy with dark curls ran out and held Mother’s hand.

“Johnny, meet your father, Richard York!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot imagine your reaction, but comments please!


	17. Kate's Baby, Richard's Maybe

“Johnny, this is your father,” Mother pushed the little boy towards Richard.

“I missed you, Dad,” the little boy said innocently. “You never sent me any birthday gift.”

Richard was stunned; his tongue was tied. It was such an awkward moment that the best way to resolve it is for everyone to leave.

“Ah…I have an announcement to make!” Izzy shouted, clapping her hand. “George and I are having a new cat! So everybody, let’s come to our place to see our fur ball!”

Everyone else took the opportunity to excuse him or herself; even though they all congratulated us before leaving and muttered “good luck”. In the end, only Richard, Mother, Johnny, Ed, Liz, and myself stayed behind. The situation was unbearable. Johnny, a small boy, wanted nothing other jump into Richard’s arms. Richard still hadn’t say a word, but judging his facial expression, he was in panic and anger. As for Mother, her eyes shined with victory.

“Richard?” I turned to him, hoping that he would tell me that the boy has nothing to do with him.

But, to my disappointment, he looked back at me as if I betrayed him. Without another word, he turned and left.

And I did not run after him.

***

I did not come home last night. After Richard left me with Ed, Liz, and Mother, I did not say a word. I sauntered to Mother, and then, I sharply slapped her across the face.

I should’ve done that long time ago.

I didn’t pay attention to Ed’s or Liz’s reaction; I could’ve cared less. Suddenly, I felt so light as if half of my body separated from me. Without a word, I left too.

I checked into a motel and spent the night there. I could not go to sleep.

I did come the next day, but Richard wasn’t there. Mother was there; and the poor Gareth, who was not fed. Gareth looked at me with confusing eyes, asking me where he’s Daddy is. I filled his bowl with dog food and poured him water. Gareth ate them all. I went directly to my room, or our room.

“I told you, he is not trustworthy,” Mother said to me, wandered into my room.

“Get out!” I refused to look at her.

“Why are you mad at me? You should be mad at Richard.”

“I said get out!”I jumped from the bed and threw a pillow at her. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of my room and dragged her through the living room. “From now on, Mother, I am no longer your daughter. You can go back to that shelter, or living on the street for all I care. I had it with you.”

“Anne,” Mother tried to pull back from my grab, but surprisingly I was stronger. “I am only trying to protect you from making the same mistake I made. Do you know how does it feel to know the person you love the most betray you? Your father had a second family—“

“What?” My eyes narrowed; I released her arm.

“Your father had this mistress and they have a daughter together. Her name is Maggie. You think you father always work late at night? Once he’s done with work, he’d waltz to her place. He was pouring his love for her while consuming the wealth generated thanks to my efforts! Richard would do the same thing to you!”

Daddy cheated?

What is going on in this world?

“I have evidence,” Mother said, her voice shaking.

“Save your evidence,” I said, biting my lips. “I don’t want to hear.”

I grabbed my coat and reached to the door. “Remember to feed Gareth. If you dare to neglect him, or if anything happen to him, I’ll kill you.”

***

I checked my phone. No call or message from Richard.

Where is he?

I wanted to call him, but my fingers didn’t comply.

_All men cheat…if they can’t find satisfaction, they find it elsewhere…_

Daddy had a second family, and Richard had a son with another woman…

Somehow, I find myself in front of the York Law Firm. Without a word, I went inside. I paid attention to no one and went straight to Richard’s office.

And I was right; he was there, still wearing the same outfit he wore at our engagement party.

“There you are,” I managed to say.

He didn’t even look at me.

“You have nothing to say to me?” I asked.

“What do you want me to say?” He asked me back. He stood, and looked at me. His eyes were red, with dark circles; he hadn’t shaved.

“Richard, I—“ I couldn’t find the right words. “Tell me, is it true? Is he—“

“HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK OF THAT?” He shouted, startled me. Richard hardly ever raised his voice at me. His hands shaking, but he toned down his voice, “When you were accused of murder conspiracy, I stood by you; when you were drunk and lost at the metro station, I stood by you; when mom disapproved our relationship, I stood by you. To me, to stand by you is to stand by me. And yet, that night, the night when we celebrate our engagement, you stood by the most ridiculous accusation against me.”

“I did not!”

“Oh really?” He looked at me unconvinced. “Just by that look from you, I knew that what your Mother presented was fairly a confirmation of something you suspected for sometimes now, am I right?”

I could not respond to that.

“Use your head, you dummy!” He yelled. “I told you that I hadn’t seen Kate since I enrolled law school. So, let’s do some mathematics. I, Richard York, am currently 28 years old going on 29. I enrolled law school at age 21. The last time I had sex with Kate was nine years ago. If you don’t believe that, then the at least, you should know that if possible, the youngest age of any kid conceived by Kate and I should be seven. That kid your Mother presented couldn’t be older than five!”

Now I felt like a total idiot.

“And even if he is my kid, you honestly think that I would leave him somewhere in this world without care? I would’ve told you long ago!”

For the first time ever, he was truly angry with me.

“You didn’t deny it either,” I tried to defend myself. “Had you told me on the spot the whole thing is ridiculous and untrue, I would’ve—“

“I shouldn’t even have to,” he said. “That should’ve been the first thing came to your mind.”

“Richard—“

“Don’t,” he raised his hand, gesturing that he did not want me to come close. “Just leave me alone.”

Hearing that, I realized how much I have hurt him.

Without a word, I turned around and left.

***

He did not come home that night; two nights in a row. Where could he be?

Still at his office?

Thinking these things over and over again, I found that I am the biggest dummy in the world. I actually believed that Richard had a kid based on what Mother told me. What was wrong with me?

Without him at home, the whole apartment felt empty. There was no way that I could stay there any longer without him around.

So, I decided to swallow my pride and beg him to come home.

I went to his office, but he wasn’t there.

I called, only heard his voicemail.

I called Rob and Francis; Richard wasn’t at their places either.

I called Izzy, and Richard wasn’t there too.

In the end, I came to Ed’s house. I nearly beat the door down.

“Yes?” It was Jackie who answered the door. Without a word of greeting, I barged in.

“Richard?” I sought for him desperately, running all over the house and opening all the doors I saw. “Richard?”

“He is not here,” Jackie said.

“Then where is he?” I demanded.

“How should I know? You are his fiancée.”

Hearing that, I broke down.

“Come child, let’s sit and have some tea,” Jackie took my hand and had me sit.

“I don’t want any tea,” I cried. “I want to see him…I lost him.”

“Oh really?” Jackie rolled her eyes. “When two people are destined to be together, not even the most powerful force can do them apart.”

“How would you know?”

“That silver dust I gave you, didn’t you use it yet?”

I looked at her and said, “No, I never had a chance.”

“You never used it?” She was unconvinced. “What happened to it?”

“I poured it down the drainage,” I told her.

“Ah, but what happened afterwards?”

Good question. I began to see how it fit all together.

“When two people are meant for each other, they are meant for each other. All couples argue.”

“But I don’t even know where he is right now.”

“And you don’t need to,” Jackie laughed. “He will come back to you whether you like it or not. Now, go to your other half.”

I nodded and walked out of Ed’s house.

***

I didn’t go home afterwards. Instead, I took the metro and went to downtown Brooklyn to see Kate. I still had her address from White Page. Even though I was now convinced that they don’t have a child, I still want to know their story.

Kate was not living in the best part of the town. Frankly, I was a little scared by the surrounding. When I came to her door, I knocked with some reluctance.

A few seconds later, she answered the door. By her face and hair, it was Kate Haute alright.

“Hi,” I greeted, felt a little awkward. “I’m looking for Kate Haute.”

“That’s me,” she responded. “What do you want?”

“I…I am Richard’s fiancée. Richard York.”

“Oh,” she looked a little surprised. “Come on in.”

Kate’s apartment was even smaller than my old one. Granted, living in Brooklyn with a low-paid job, this was not the worst for her circumstances.

“Where’s your son?” I asked.

“He’s with my mom today,” Kate said. “So you and Richard are getting married?”

“I guess,” I replied weakly.

Kate laughed at my response. “If you know Richard, once he set his heart at anything, he sticks to it till the end.”

“You and Richard, were you close?” I brought up the risky subject.

“We were,” Kate reminisced. “Richard is the most caring guy I ever known. We were together for about a year. It was our freshman year; he was studying history, had a dream for law school. I was studying philosophy and art. Then, I took a wrong turn in life.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Alcohol,” she said. “I got drunk and partied too hard, until one night I got raped. I swear to this day the guy slipped date-rape drug into my drink; but he said that the sex was consensual. So, no charge was pressed, and he left me pregnant. Lucky for me, my son is nothing like him.”

I remembered the night I got so drunk and bumped into him at the metro station; now this explained his reaction.

I turned and saw her son’s photo. “He has dark curls.”

“So do many other kids,” Kate said. “You know, it’s a shame that Richard is not his father; or else, his life would’ve been much happier. You are a lucky girl to marry him.”

“Thanks.” I stood up. “I should go.”

“Hey,” she stopped me before I left. “When you see Richard, tell him that I said hi and that I am happy for him.”

I nodded.

***

It was late.

I left the train station and walked towards my apartment complex. Maybe Richard was already home.

On the way there, I spotted a band playing the song “Letter from the Sky” by the street. Hearing that song, I walked towards them. I closed my eyes for a second and enjoyed the music.

_We were never made to fall away…_

_Never fall away…_

_…You’re coming back for me…_

I began to hum along; when I opened my eyes, I felt someone nearby.

I looked up, and found Richard standing before me.

Without a word, I flew into his arms and held him tightly.

“I’m sorry—“ Before I could finish, his lips were on mine. Our heads pressed together and our hands held on to one another.

We ended up okay. Our engagement was still on. Later Richard told me that he made the right choice by not letting me go; or else, we would end up getting back together after something very bad happened to one of us (probably me).

The best lesson I learned is to never take Richard’s love and trust for granted.

And to spare you the details, Mother moved out from our place.

Don’t ask me how.

As of today, from what I heard from friends of friends of friends, she is living somewhere in New York State.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to get this story out of my system.
> 
> Comments please!
> 
> I love this story and hope that you love it too.


	18. Wedding Madness and Surprises

“Anne, sweetheart, I can’t find my cologne!” Richard yelled from the bathroom.

Rubbing my eyes, I half-heartedly responded, “Maybe it’s in our bedroom. Are you sure you did not left it in your office?”

“Positive.”

“Then I guess you have to buy yourself another one,” I stood yawning in the kitchen. “Richard, how come we don’t have coffee?”

“What?” He was way too focused on his cologne to pay attention to what I said.

“I asked you how come we don’t have coffee in our house?” How I hated to repeat myself!

“We never have coffee,” he sounded confused. “We always grab them at Starbucks. And since when you start drinking coffee?”

Right, I never drink coffee; I still prefer latte. However, if under special circumstances, I could handle one cup or two.

“Okay, Richard I need to head to work,” I looked toward the bathroom, where he was still searching for his cologne. “Good luck on your case!”

Then I left.

After I got to work, I sneaked my hand into my purse and took out Richard’s cologne. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the scents as I placed the bottle under my nose.

Sounds weird, doesn’t it?

***

After Mother moved out of our apartment and out of our lives, life was back to normal. Well, it was sort of normal; a little different.

I became more attracted to Richard than ever; I just love the man. However, beneath all that craving and love, it was guilt. If I recalled correctly, I doubted his fidelity twice. First, before our engagement, I suspected that he was having an affair with Mary Burgundy, which was proven false. Luckily, Richard didn’t know that. Then, it was Kate and her son, whom I suspected was the result of his one-night-stand back in college; that was proven bogus as well. Honestly, compared to him, I was more dirty and shameless. I mean, come on, I had sex with Richard while technically still engaged to that Edward Lancaster. Had that pregnancy test came out positive, then we would’ve had a child by now—conceived outside of marriage. So, what right did I have to judge him or doubt him?

The moment after Mother left, I jumped into his arms and started to kiss him. And we made love right there in the kitchen. After the kitchen, it was the shower; after the shower, it was the bed. I was so addicted to him. Once we were both exhausted from the passion and love-making, we spilled our beans. I held on to him like my life was depending on him; he gently stroked my back.  

“You still feel bad about it, don’t you?” he asked, referring to that incident at the engagement party.

“I do,” I admitted, stroking his cheek. “I don’t know which hurt me more. Me doubting you; or you walking out on me.”

He let out a sigh. “You know what I despise the most in this world? Deadbeat fathers.”

“What?” I was surprised to hear him saying that.

“When my father died, I was only eight. My father and I were close; when he was gone, my life was shattered. I told myself many times that if I have a child, I would shower that child with all the love and care. One thing I like so much about your father, Anne, is how good he was to you. That night, when your mother accused me of being a deadbeat father, it was like a slap on the face. Then looking into that little boy’s eyes, I just didn’t know what to say. When you questioned me, I felt like a sharp knife stabbed me in the back of my heart.”

I rubbed his chest as if I was healing his wound. “I’m sorry…after you left, I didn’t go home either; I couldn’t. I spent the night in a motel and then I went to find you. When you didn’t come home two nights in a row, I freaked out. I called everyone I knew but I just couldn’t find you. So had nowhere to go, I went to see Kate.”

“You did?” Now it was his turn to be surprised. “How is she?”

“She is doing okay; her mother is helping her out. She still has good memory of you, telling me that I’m a lucky girl,” I spared him the detail of her being date-raped. Does Richard even know that?

“Oh,” he sounded relieved. “You _are_ a lucky girl.”

I laughed gently. “Don’t push it. Just promise me one thing: don’t walk out on me again. This apartment is always too empty without you.”

“I promise, you little troublemaker,” he kissed me on the nose.

“Cross your heart and hope to die,” I insisted.

He laughed and we made love again.

***

So, one bad incident behind us, we carried on with our life. We were getting married and we needed a wedding. Izzy was my matron of honor, and she was still a bridezilla. Throughout the process, from picking the location to dress-fitting, Izzy was the bridezilla even though I was the bride-to-be. For some reason, I became very lazy lately. Not only that, I developed a weird addiction to Richard. It was not the sex actually; it was his presence. I was addicted to it so much that I stole his cologne so that I can smell it.

Izzy was so uptight and aggressive with this whole wedding planning that everyone found her difficult to have around. The flowers were not pretty enough; the place was not fancy enough; guest list too short; the band was not reliable; photographer was not high-rated. To the point Liz asked me, “Aren’t you the bride? Act like one.”

Yes, I was the bride. I told Izzy many times that I want a small occasion; I did not want a huge wedding. But Izzy insisted that Richard and I deserve better, which was true. Each time I sat with her to go over the details, she would go on and on and on until I fell asleep with a mumble “whatever you like”. The most exhausting day was my dress-fitting day. Richard gave me his credit card for this occasion and whispered, “Don’t worry about the cost; just surprise me.”

The place offered free wines and cakes. I never liked alcohol so I refused the wine; instead, I had cakes, five pieces to be exact. Izzy objected and berated me for that make my belly swollen hence I wouldn’t fit in the dresses properly. I preferred the sleek dress with a long train; but Izzy insisted I should try others. She cried each time I stepped out from the fitting room.

“My sister is getting married!” She jumped up and down, and turned around.

Every single time.

By the time I finally picked the right dress (yes, it was the one I preferred), my body was about to collapse. When I got home, I went straight to bed. I didn’t wake up until next day noon.

Who knows that getting married can be so tiresome?

And then it was the honeymoon.

I passed that to Richard.

“Take me somewhere I never been before,” I told him.

I just wanted to rest, lying in my bed, enjoying cakes, and smelling Richard’s cologne.

***

On a beautiful Saturday, I was napping until a phone ring woke me up. It was Richard.

“Anne, Father Paul asked me if you have your vows ready,” he said.

“Vow? What vow?” I was still half-asleep.

“Our wedding vows,” Richard said. “Mine is done; is yours ready?”

“I guess,” I replied with a yawn.

“Anne,” now he sounded frustrated. “Do you have it?”

“Yes I do!” The sound of his frustration woke me completely. “I have it, truly.”

“Okay.”

I sort of have it, only I never wrote it down.

Oh great, another thing to do. I turned to the night stand, and grabbed his cologne and placed it under my nose.

That brought me some relaxation.

***

My laziness became more and more serious to the point that it wasn’t even funny. One morning on my way to work, instead of heading to La Mode Publisher, I headed to a bakery instead because I was distracted by its delicious smell. So, I spent the entire morning at the bakery eating cakes until I was discovered by my boss Mr. William Hastings who found me asleep with my face on the plate. It was so embarrassing! Fortunately, due to my good works and behaviors in the past (at least), I was not fired or demoted.

A co-worker did suggest that maybe I was having cold-feet.

Was I?

“Come on Anne, think about it. You are not as excited as you should and obviously you are avoiding wedding preparations. I mean it’s still early to back off.”

_Really?_

Was I having cold feet?

My response to that was simply went home and went to bed until Richard woke me after he came home.

Now even he was worrying.

“Anne, sweetheart,” he stroked my hair, which made me even drowsier. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” I muttered, opening my eyes. “I overworked, that’s all.”

“If you count eating to sleep as work, then you are correct,” he teased.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Your boss called me,” he said. “He is decent man.”

Then he looked at the night stand and spotted his cologne. “I was wondering where it was, you little thief!”

“Don’t,” I grabbed it from him. “I need it.”

“What do you need it for?”

“Whenever you are not around, this reminds me of you,” I murmured.

He smiled. “I do appreciate how much you want me, but you need to stop.” He picked me up and held me in his arms. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Leaning against his shoulders, I buried my face into his neck. “I don’t know. I just so tired. Izzy is way too much; not only she’s bossy, she jumps up and down every time anyone disagrees with her. The hairstylist isn’t sure that if I should do an updo or left my hair down; and I have to hold my head up for the entire day to the point that my neck hurts. The shoes don’t fit or don’t look right. Mr. Hastings insisted that I should work on an article on weddings. I just want to get this done and over with. My co-workers are saying that I have cold feet and that’s so not true.”

“I sure hope not,” he laughed.

“I am not having cold feet, but I don’t know why I’m so lack of the excitement. It is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives,” and I started sobbing.

“Anne,” Richard grabbed a tissue and wiped my nose. “If you feel that the pressure is too much, maybe you like to postpone the wedding?”

“Postpone? I don’t like the sound of that!” True, whenever celebrities postpone the wedding, the marriage never happened.

“Are you sure that you won’t be asleep at the altar?” He joked.

“Probably,” my drowsiness returned. Now, even talking tired me.

***

Days became weeks. My feelings had not improved; in fact, it became worse. Once, I thought of maybe seeing a psychiatrist.

I called in sick and stayed at home for one day. I had nothing to do aside from sleeping. During one of my few waking moments, I watched movies.

_Meet the Fockers._

Then it was this scene that caught my attention: Pam pulled Greg into a room and told him that she’s pregnant. Her boobs hurt and the smells bother her.

Does this sound familiar?

Could I be pregnant?

The thought of it gave me an uneasy feeling. Sure, I pictured Richard and I as parents many times. But this time, it was different. When did I conceive, if I did? Would I still be able to fit into that sleek wedding dress I picked? What to do then? Baby first? Or wedding first?

Okay, let’s relax. First, find out; then, call Richard.

Got it.

So, gathering all my strength, I went to the pharmacy and got myself five pregnancy tests. After I got home, I was wondering should I go through with it first and then call Richard. Or should I call Richard first and go through with it with him.

I chose the latter.

I called and asked him to come home at once.

He asked me why.

I said, “Don’t ask.”

Sitting on the couch, I placed my hands on my belly nervously until he came home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> Comments please.
> 
> I hate it when this story is coming to an end.
> 
> But good news: I will start a new "The White Queen" fic.


	19. Alls well ends well

Marriage and kids—those are the two things any woman would’ve wanted on top of her career. As for me, I got my career; marriage was coming up; and now possibly a baby.

All girls played the idea of having children since they held their first dolls. When I was young, I loved to play mommy. I remember how Izzy and I stuffed pillow under our shirts and pretended to go into labor. When Richard and I got serious, I thought about kids. Gareth was a good start; but he was a dog. Having a baby is different, especially when it’s real deal. It means nine months of pregnancy; it means possible maternal death from complications; it means maternity leave; then day care, school, college. Boy, maybe I’m thinking too far ahead.

But first thing first: was I pregnant?

Sitting before me was five pregnancy tests unused. I was waiting for Richard; I couldn’t go through this alone.

Finally, Richard came home.

Immediately, I approached him. “Richard, I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” He came to me, concerned.

“You know, lately, I behaved strangely. I sleep non-stop and I can’t stop eating cakes, speaking of which, I just had three pieces. At first, I thought it was Izzy driving me nuts with her bridezilla madness. But now, I don’t think it is. And as for your cologne, I thought I was craving for you, but now I think I’m just crave for its scent. I thought maybe I was having cold feet, or because I still feel bad about Mother. But now, I think it’s something else.”

“Tell me,” he drew me to him.

“I think I’m pregnant.

“What?” He pulled away. “Are you sure?”

“No,” I replied. “I haven’t take the pregnancy test yet…too scared to do it alone.”

“Anne,” he hesitated for a second. “Okay, let’s calm down and think…we are adults right? We are a couple getting married, right? It’s just our little one came a little early…”

Oh my God! Even he was losing it!

“Richard, we don’t even know if there is a little one yet!”

“Oh right, right,” he took a deep breath. “Okay, first thing first. You have the pregnancy test, right?”

I nodded. “Five.”

“Let’s just relax and take the pregnancy test and see what it says…”

Before he could finish, I grabbed the pregnancy test and went to the bathroom. Following its instruction, we waited for two minutes for the results. Our hands held tight on one another; this was way more intense compared to the time when we were in court facing fighting the conspiracy charge. Two minutes felt like two hours.

“You think that this place is good enough to raise a kid?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know; we have to wait to see. Although, please do not plan to move when I get big. It’d be too much.”

“Which school is better? NYU or Columbia?”

“You are way too far ahead,” I complained. “What about state school?”

“Then it means that our kid have to go to school out of the state,” Richard disagreed on that aspect. “You know state schools are party schools. I really don’t want that influence on our kid.”

“State schools in New York can work too.”

“Public Ivy, dear.”

We started to bicker about our kid’s college plan, to the point we forgot that the two-minute wait time was way passed. When we realized it, the nervousness crept all over us.

“Okay, now.” My hands were shaking when I reached for the test.

Then I chickened out. “Richard, you look at the results.”

I shut my eyes and buried my face into his chest.

He did not say a word. I felt him stroking my hair and kissing my forehead.

Based on his body language, I guessed the answer.

“Positive?” I muttered.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding me closer.

“Maybe we should test it again. Once may not be enough,” I suggested.

So we waited for a couple of hours and tested.

Result was positive.

We tested again. Result was positive.

Richard stopped me there. I couldn’t pee anymore anyway.

So this was it; we are having a baby.

“You think it’s a boy or a girl?” Richard asked suddenly.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he chuckled, realizing that he asked a sensitive question. “It’s yours and mine.”

We held on to one another quietly until my phone rang.

It was Izzy.

“Annie, I got bad news!”

“What is it?” I asked. My mind was still occupied on the baby in my belly.

“The place we booked down for the wedding, you know that looked like a castle? They are tearing it down!”

“What?”

“They are reconstructing it, which means that it won’t be available until next year!”

Oh great, by then I would be seven months pregnant.

***

Izzy’s bad news was really bad news. That wedding venue I had my eyes on was _the_ one. The building was like a castle in a forest and it was marvelous at night with all the lights. It gave me a sense of fairytale and romance. But now, it was going to be torn down with a new building in place. I went to the wedding venue to speak with them. They told me that the reconstruction will begin next month, which means that if I like to, the wedding can be this month.

That meant I only had two weeks to prepare!

Now, it was my turn to be the bridezilla.

Seeing me panicking, Richard took my hands and said, “Anne, calm down. We can find another venue…”

“No!” I insisted. “This is the place! I want this place! I like this setting! I am the bride and I say it’s settled!”

Then I gave Izzy a death glare to the point that she backed off.

“But Annie, how are we going to put it all together within two weeks?” Izzy pointed out. “We don’t have a band; we still need have wedding cake and pastries ordered…”

Oh great, she had to mention that c-word. My cravings kicked again.

I stiffed myself and took over the command. “Izzy, you take care the pastries; I want a huge wedding cake, vanilla and coconut flavor. Francis, you take care of the band; nothing old fashion please. I don’t want to dance to country music or coffee house songs. Ed and Liz, please take care of the invitations. Girls can help and yes, tell Bess she got the flower girl role. Richard, you talk to these people and tell them that the wedding is going to be a small one.”

I turned to Izzy and narrowed my eyes. “Yes, a small one with no more than 50 people.”

Then I smiled at Ed and Liz. “That should make your job easier.”

Clasped my hands together, I muttered to myself, “So by far, we got the dress, the hair stylist, the place. And soon there will be pastries, a band, and people dancing. Oh yes, the caterers. Izzy, you and I will take care of it! Got it?”

I swiftly turned around and looked at my team of soldiers. “I can’t hear you? GOT IT?”

Everyone nodded their heads quickly. No one dared to object, including Liz.

“In two weeks, there is going to be a wedding! No bargain!”

With that said, I grabbed Izzy and dragged her away to work on the wedding details.

Boy, I must been a real bad bridezilla.

***

The two weeks of wedding preparation was an intense one. Endless phone calls, bargains, bickering, dramas—you name it. But it worked out surprisingly. Funny thing was that I never seen myself as a leader or a pushy person before. I guess everyone had their moments.

Richard was worried about my pregnancy; he feared that all these tensions and works could lead to a miscarriage. We did not tell anyone, hoping that they would think we conceived our child during our honeymoon. Yet, I think that maybe Liz or Izzy guessed my condition. Granted, Liz had three girls and a boy; and Izzy had a girl. Both of them should’ve known by my behavior and emotions. I mean think about it, the way that I insisted to have a wedding this soon got to have more to do with the wedding venue alone. Thank goodness though, to avoid more drama, neither of them said anything.

Three days before the wedding, we went to the OBGYN clinic. Waiting in the lobby, we watched as many expecting couples. Some women were huge as if they swallowed a watermelon. I was probably only about a couple of week and no sign of belly yet. One strange thing was that I had no morning sickness, which should be a blessing. I remembered how Izzy complained about her morning sickness to the point that she had to be hospitalized. It made me a little nervous though, because I feared that the doctor may tell me that there is no pregnancy and I got something else.

Finally, they called my name. Richard and I entered into the exam room, hand in hand.

As we waited for the doctor, I asked Richard if it mattered to him if the child is a girl.

“Why do you ask that?” He laughed. “This is our child, boy or girl. It doesn’t matter.”

“What if it’s twins?”

“Sweetheart, please don’t scare me,” he teased.

Then the doctor came in.

Yes, I was pregnant. The doctor told me that it’s not uncommon that a mother does not experience morning sickness. And, she added, that it is also possible that I will experience the sickness in later stage.

Then we saw the baby via obstetric ultrasound.

The doctor pointed to the baby and smiled, “Congratulations.”

There it was; he or she. Located in my uterus (thank god) and the heart beat was strong.

We both cried.

According to the doctor, the date of conception was about one and half month ago, which was the date after Mother moved out. That made sense, considering what we did on that day.

That night, Richard rested his head against my belly. I told him that he won’t hear anything at this stage as the doctor told us.

But he didn’t care. He just wanted to be close to his baby.

Stroking his hair, I was never more satisfied.

***

Finally, my wedding date had arrived. It was a small wedding, but decent. We got good caterers; the food was great; and the cake was huge. Bess was the flower girl, even though she wasn’t smiling a lot. That kid really loved her Uncle Richard to the point she wanted to be the bride. I guarantee you, years later that kind of thought would make her sick.

We exchanged our vows before a priest. I vowed to bring endless light and happiness to Richard every single day; and Richard vowed to stay by my side and to get me out of trouble high or low. After exchanged rings, we kissed.

We were pronounced husband and wife.

The photographers surrounded us like annoying paparazzi. Yet, they took gorgeous photos. My favorite photo was the one where I stood by the castle, lifting my dress; Richard knelt on one knee, placing my right shoe back on my foot. That photo still sits on my desk at work; it brings me happiness every day.

After the photoshoots, Izzy offered to remove my veil. But I insisted to wear it till the end, because Richard loved it. We danced for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Richard York. Our song was “It’s You” by Dana Glover.

I did not toss my bouquet. Instead, we had a huge sling shot outside of our wedding venue. That was Francis’ and Rob’s idea. Together, we placed the bouquet on the sling shot and released it together. Somehow the ribbon that tied the bouquet was released and the flowers rained all over us. We both laughed at that and the photographer did not miss that.

A huge framed portrait of me and Richard held on one another, laughing with flower raining over us in the sunset, now hangs on our living room wall. This was Richard’s favorite.

After the wedding was over, we remained at the venue. Richard asked the band to stay a little longer and paid them extra.

We danced together, just two of us (actually three, if you count the baby).

“Anne, I love you,” Richard said to me, looking me in the eye. “I am the happiest man in this world.”

“And I you,” I replied. “So, as for our honeymoon, where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” he winked.

“Is it in this country?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Is it somewhere in Europe?”

“Yeah.”

We danced until sunrise.

***

Turned out the honeymoon was in Yorkshire, England.

I nearly jumped when I heard the word “England”. I really did not want to run into Edward Lancaster on my honeymoon. But Richard assured me that it won’t happen since Edward Lancaster lives in London. We would be in northern England, far away from London.

Good.

We spent our honeymoon in a castle hotel. During the day, Richard took me to Middleham Castle; it was huge.

I asked him why he chose this location for our honeymoon.

He looked at me and said, “Because this is the location where a real historical romance began…”

He went on telling me the story of King Richard III and his Queen Anne; how they grew up together, here; how war separated them; how King Richard rescued her from a cookshop; how they married and how he brought her back here.

That story beats all the fairytale and romance I read before.

***

So this is how I met my husband.

Who could’ve thought that that long haired, quiet, and ghoulish boy whom I despised ended up being this tall, good-looking lawyer I married?

Looking back, I finally see how that bottle of silver dusts from Jackie Rivers brought us together. Sometimes, I wonder, had I not went to Jackie, would I still be with Richard right now?

Probably.

Because like what Jackie said, soulmates are meant to be together no matter what.

And Richard is my soul mate.

We still live in New York City. Our child, a little boy, is five years old now. We named him Edward, after his uncle; we called him “Ned”.

If you wonder why we did not name him Richard, the reason is that when we went to find out the baby’s gender, we were too nervous to look at the result. So Ed volunteered to do so, on the condition that we name the child after him if it’s a boy.

But we settled Richard as his middle name.

Little Ned is a talkative sunny boy with dark curls and dark eyes. Sometimes Richard had to buy him candybars so that he can stop talking.

And one day, during one of our road trips, he suddenly asked, “Dad, how did you meet mom?”

Richard grinned. “It’s a long story buddy. You have to wait until you’re older.”

“But I am old enough now!” Ned whined.

I just laughed.

***

_December, 1460 Middleham, England_

_Eight-year old Richard, Duke of Gloucester arrived Middleham to receive his training from Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. As he rode by the Middleham Castle, something fell on his head._

_He looked up and saw a small girl standing by the window._

_That girl smiled at him._

_“Your Grace, Lady Anne Neville,” a servant bowed._

_The young Duke looked at the little Lady and grinned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe this story just ended. I just want to grab a tissue and cry.
> 
> The style of story is inspired by "How I met your mother". The idea jumped into my mind after watching the first few episodes.
> 
> No, there won't be a sequel.
> 
> But there is going to be another the White Queen fic centering on Richard and Anne. This one will not be a modern AU.
> 
> I like to thank you all for your comments and kudos. 
> 
> And please leave comments for this chapter.


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